I sat at the bar and waited for Katja to pour my usual Black Russian. After presenting the drink, she produced a business card and laid it on the bar. I raised my eyebrows at the attractive young lady.
"Came in here earlier, looking for you." My brisk nod of acknowledgement encouraged her. "Told him you usually arrive around midnight… if you come," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
I glanced around the bar but failed to see anyone taking an overt interest in me. I turned back to Katja. "He didn't want to wait," she announced casually.
"Did…" I looked at the name on the card, "Mr Abraham say what he wanted?"
Katja shook her head. "No, he just said he needed to meet with you. He was quite adamant about it. Not rude or pushy, but definitely determined. Anyway, he asked me to give you this." Her cat-like eyes gazed briefly at the card, and then a troubled stare regarded me. "I haven't made things bad for you, have I?"
I sipped my drink, letting the smooth liquid caress my taste buds while I gazed around the trendy bar again. "No Sweetie, I'm not in any trouble, not that I know of if that's what you mean. Why? Was he a cop?"
"Could be, but I'm not sure. He certainly wasn't from Amsterdam Central. I mean, he wasn't even Dutch. He was a… 'Een Buitenlander,' but not a tourist. No, he was different," she said intriguingly. I arched my eyebrows.
"Well, he only spoke English for one thing," she explained, her brow furrowing. "But there was something about him, something..." she paused, seeking the right word, and settled on, "intense. Not like the rest of the people here, easy-going, looking for fun... He was... different." She shrugged her shoulders as if that was explanation enough.
Apparently bored by the conversation, she swiftly switched topics. "Are you looking for fun tonight?" Her eyes sparkled, probably recalling our last night together. Her charming, pleasant smile evolved into something a lot sexier. Watching her, I nodded, and her impressive bosom heaved. "If you don't find anyone, I'm available."
My nipples stiffened at the memory of her violently writhing in ecstasy as she came. Katja saw my reaction and grinned.
"I've got a new one, Andrea," she continued excitedly, "and this one is even bigger." Her wicked suggestion had an immediate effect. I felt a tell-tale patch forming on my panties and, without the need to look at my chest, I knew that my hard nipples would be distorting the soft fabric of my dress. "Even if you find someone, I wouldn't mind them joining in," she said, moving away to serve another customer.
Pocketing the mysterious business card, I turned and faced the nightclub, my appetite whetted. Feeling the undeniable hunger in my belly, I slipped from the barstool and began prowling. A sordid adventure with Adam and Eve would be perfect tonight.
o0o
I lay looking at the faint glow of a new day breaking above the Grachtengordel, listening to my bedmates lightly snoring. I swung my legs from the bed. The debris from our sexual activities lay scattered around the bedroom and, unable to find my underwear in the gloom, I resigned myself to going commando.
Both Katja and - what was his name? - lay entwined within the sheets and each other. Ignoring them, I searched for the rest of my clothes, the scent of spent passion assaulting my nostrils, igniting the fire in my belly again, and… No, I had to leave. As I reluctantly tiptoed across the bedroom, memories of the previous evening triggered a wispy smile.
"The sleep of the innocent," I murmured, closing the door and moving towards the lounge to dress. Hurriedly fastening my stockings, my thoughts returned to the business card in my purse. I was intrigued and determined to find out what was behind it. Quickly tidying my hair and makeup, I rushed outside and managed to hail a cab.
I slumped, exhausted, into the back seat. The driver asked for my destination and sensibly left me alone. Fifteen minutes later, after being lecherously inspected while paying my fare, I stood at my panoramic window leading to the secluded roof terrace. Standing there, witnessing the glorious dawn of a new day over Amsterdam, the vista worth every penny, I closed the blinds and reaching for my cell phone. I dialled the number on the card I'd received earlier the evening.
"Sorry," the tired voice on the other end apologized. "I expected your call hours ago. I must have dozed off."
"How do you know who's calling?"
There was a pause. The voice was more alert now. "Easy, you're the only one with this number. Can we meet? Tonight?"
My, my. We're all business now, aren't we? I thought, holding the phone against my chest. Should I consent to his request? Curiosity had the upper hand.
"Yes, why not, Mr Abraham? Meet me at the Three Sisters on the Rembrandtplein."
"I know it. Good choice, crowded and anonymous," the voice on the line said brusquely. "When?"
"Ten tonight."
"See you then. How will I..."
"Just ask for Danny at the door, and he will do the rest," I replied coolly, promptly cutting the connection.
o0o
Mr Abraham was late. Not just a little late but a whole two hours. When he did arrive, he seemed as surprised at my appearance as I was at his. From his name, I'd conjured up the image of an older man, but the reality was very different. Tall and debonair with broad shoulders, he cast a dark shadow over my dimly-lit booth. I saw a thin-lipped smile and, beneath bloodshot eyes, dark shadows of exhaustion. Studying his physique more thoroughly, I was impressed. Although bulky, I didn't think bodybuilder, more long-distance swimmer. His torso tapered to a narrow waist and even the expensive-looking long coat couldn't disguise the fluidity with which he moved. Then again, not much would.
His haunted eyes continued to stare at me while he cocked his head towards Danny. I nodded, all-clear, and the young doorman left us. My guest slid into his seat on the opposite side of the table, his movements quick and economical, like someone accustomed to a harsh physical environment. I'd noticed that, since arriving, his gaze hadn't left my face at all. He hadn't been distracted and, if it wasn't for the animal attraction I felt between us, it could have been worrying.
"Mrs Detroit?"
I shook my head. Instantly, he reacted, eyes opening wide in apparent surprise. "Miss," I corrected and held out a hand. Then he surprised me, raising it to his lips. Soft and sensual, their touch caused my pulse to race. I kept looking at his face and liked what I saw. Strong-jaw and high cheekbones proclaimed a Scandinavian ancestry and the blue eyes, although bloodshot, burned with fire.
"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mr Abraham."
"Please, call me David. And it's not Abraham, but you already suspected that." He paused for effect. "David Lincoln."
I kept my expression neutral. "Descended from?" He nodded.
"Yes, far, far back. Abraham's sister was my great, great - how many times must I say it? - grandmother."
Impressed, I raised my eyebrows in salute. "And what do you want from me?"
"Your advice," he said bluntly, staring at me.
"Why do you think I can, or even want to help you, Mr Lincoln?" I asked and raised a hand to grab the attention of a passing bargirl. David waited while I placed the order, having accepted my offer to buy him a drink.
"Because, according to my sources, you know everything there is to know about vampires and their secrets."
I was shocked. Not about the subject, but because someone had told this man about me. Someone I'd trusted. Had I been betrayed?
"That was a long time ago," I countered firmly, meeting his stare, my gaze unwavering.
"A long time ago you say, but you know as well as I do that time is illusionary, isn't it?" Not so much a question, more a statement. And in repeating my own words back to me, David revealed our mutual friend. Before I could respond, our drinks arrived.
"How is Serene these days?" I inquired, sipping my drink.
David gulped his bourbon and looked at me grimly. "She's dead," he replied without preamble. "She was killed by a particularly nasty Gregorian vampire called Ivan Romanski. We were hunting him."
My eyes snapped shut as if trying to blot out what I'd just heard. My blood ran cold, and my breathing choked in my throat. The Black Russian tasted like bile, and I felt the colour drain from my face. "Were you..."
"There?" he finished my question. "Yes. We'd tracked the creature to Los Angeles, lots of lost souls there, an open buffet for someone like him. We were stalking him in his lair, a derelict warehouse in the old town precinct when he attacked us from behind. Poor Serene didn't stand a chance." His voice was cold as ice as he relayed the incident. "His knife went straight through her heart."
"She ignored my advice?"
He shook his head, his expression rigid, clearly battling to keep suppressed emotions under control. "No, I did. I thought I knew better. Former special forces and all that," he said apologetically. "I took the lead, unaware of how silently and agile the Gregorians can move."
He paused, his hand sweeping over his face.
"He jumped from some packing cases, landing quietly behind us." His shame at being outsmarted was evident. "Anyway, the dumbfuck took Serene first, which was a mistake. If he'd attacked me, he might have lived, but…" he shook his head again. "By the time I was finished with him, the evil cackling he emitted when he retracted his blade was nothing more than an echo."
I wanted to ask how, but intuition made me wait. After scanning the bar, he swiftly opened his coat. "It's Obsidian," he informed. "Its ancient name is Karitoriki. It means The Reaper. I carry it whenever I'm hunting, and it took that motherfucker's head right off. Clean as a whistle."
The way the Katana's dark metal blade resonated in the dim light of the booth, caused a shiver to run down my spine.
"So why do you need my help, Mr Lincoln. It seems you're quite capable of looking after yourself."
He shook his head and moved to my side of the booth, our bodies making contact, the heat from his, permeating through my dress. That's when I saw how deep the dark smudges around his eyes were.
"You might think I'm just a warrior, but I'm more than that," he insisted vehemently. "I was an instructor at Little Creek. Serene selected me to be her protector from a long list of candidates, and I failed. Unfortunately, my combat skills weren't enough. I need to know more."
His masculinity was proving to be an aphrodisiac. Testing the ground, so to speak, I pressed my thigh against him. "So, again, what do you want from me? My advice to Serene was undoubtedly flawed; otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting here alone, would you?" I asked, a hand accidentally landing on his thigh. I smiled when he didn't remove it, although his eyes bored into me.
"Your advice wasn't flawed, Miss Detroit. Serene didn't ask the right questions, or at least not the ones I would have asked. One can't blame the teacher if the student doesn't make all the necessary preparations. I do, and the next time I go hunting, I will know everything I need to to be successful."
I nodded, seeing the pain in his eyes. It was as if maligning Serene was somehow a betrayal. "Please, call me Andrea. You loved her?" He nodded. I squeezed his thigh. "Did she tell you we were lovers?" He shook his head. "Does that upset you?" Again he shook his head but, this time, his smile was warmer.
"I can and will help you but not now." I felt his hardness and made a decision. "I have to take care of some business before I'm free. I can call you later."
He shook his head. "I've other people to see tonight and really should get going. I suggest we meet tomorrow evening after I've slept."
My eyes flared. "You sleep during the day?" I couldn't disguise the concern I felt at hearing this bold statement.
The wan smile highlighted his exhaustion. "If a hunter wants to defeat his prey, then the hunter should adopt the prey's habits and mannerisms. So, when the bloodsuckers sleep, I sleep. When they hunt, so do I."
I nodded, studying him intently. The scent of his subtle aftershave wafted in my nostrils, reminding me of long ago promises. At the same time, his crooked smile endeared him to me. I bent my head forward, my lips brushing against his ear as I spoke. "Let me give you a word of advice, Mr Lincoln. Trust no one and suspect everyone. Follow your gut feeling. It's usually correct. Intuition is probably your greatest ally."
Then I kissed him. Softly at first, but feeling the response from his hardness beneath my hand, continued with more and more intensity.
Breathless, I stood up, a wispy smile on my tingling lips. "I'll text you an address for tomorrow night," I said, moving away. He stayed seated and acknowledged me with a tilt of his head.
o0o
"What can you tell me about the Ghengazian Vampires?"
David Lincoln was resting his head on the edge of the jacuzzi, looking up into the clear evening sky. The sun was far over the horizon, but the temperature had hardly dropped. While I contemplated both his request and the evening so far, I reached over to caress him.
He'd arrived at my penthouse, looking the part. As he stepped through the front door, the fluidity of his movements caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly. With a shock, I realized I couldn't wait to get my teeth into him. Pardon the expression.
During dinner, David was the perfect guest, keeping the conversation light and airy and, to my surprise, he had a wicked, dry sense of humour. We talked briefly about Serene, but as far as I could tell, he'd assigned that to his past. Although not forgotten, it didn't seem like something David wanted to dwell on. He had other things on his mind.
At the beginning of the evening, I'd noticed quick furtive glances, the way he watched me move around the apartment. Furtive glances grew into more prolonged stares, and I felt he became more comfortable in my presence. To be honest, I enjoyed the way he was undressing me with his eyes. Not that there was much to remove.
To encourage him, while we were eating, I put a foot between his legs. The hardness beneath my toes caused my juices to flow, and small rigid bumps appeared in the front of my dress. With my body betraying my state of arousal, I saw no point in beating around the bush. So, even before dessert was served, I stood up from the dining room table, unzipped my summer dress, let it fall to the floor and walked towards the French windows. Seeing surprise and amazement register on his face, I let him know he could find me in the jacuzzi. If he wanted to continue this beautiful evening, we'd been enjoying he should join me.
Luxuriating in the warm water swirling around my naked form, I was delighted to see David walk out onto the roof terrace precisely as nature intended. His physique was everything I'd imagined it to be. As he continued towards me with nothing more than an unashamed smile and two full wine glasses, his impressive build made promises my body intended to keep.
I waited, impatiently for him to join me. After displaying how agile my fingers can be underwater, I ordered him to sit on the edge of the tub so that I could taste his essence. When he obeyed, I assumed he was a subservient lover, but I was wrong. As soon as my lips encircled his girth, his fingers entwined in my hair, and he made sure I performed precisely to his liking. Apparently, I didn't disappoint and, after swallowing his thick, hot protein shake, he kissed me passionately, saying he was going to fuck me. I reached into his lap as his tongue duelled with mine, and I was amazed that he was still very hard.
We sank into the water, and I straddled him, gasping loudly as his manhood slid inside me. Despite my high state of arousal, his shaft stretched my pussy, and the smouldering embers in my belly were stoked into an inferno by his rigid fire iron. Pools of water splashed on the decking, caused by the intensity of our sexual activity, while our moans of passion drifted on the warm night air.
I came explosively, my body shuddering, thighs alternately floundering and gripping the taut physique between them. My release flooded David's manhood and, seconds later, he emptied his source of life into me for the second time that evening, his roar of climax reverberating around the surrounding buildings.
Although spent, our carnal embrace continued, an erotic silence enveloping us as our bodies communed with each other, enhanced by the sounds of a city that plays all night. We drew apart when his body, finally acceding to the toll my fervour had demanded, retreated within itself to gather strength for the next encounter. Only then did we start discussing vampires.
I told him everything I knew about his quarry, how they originated from the Steppes of Eastern Siberia. Perfectly adapted to the cold, they live off those foolish enough to become stranded in the inhospitable climate. David was a good listener, paying particular attention to the rumours that had grown through the aeons of time.
"There are tales that proclaim, although I don't know whether to believe them or not," I admitted, "that when you're hunting them, beware the sound of the wind rustling through trees because they are near. Their foul breath hangs like an obscene mist above the ground, and that they have enchanted jewellery, rings mostly, that bends light and colour, in effect making it virtually impossible to see them coming, until it's too late."
He nodded solemnly, seemingly storing every detail I could dredge from my memory. As we talked, I saw the vigour returning to his body, the tautness gradually disappearing. Attentive as he appeared, I sensed that his active mind was far away, possibly envisaging his following campaign of attack. When I'd exhausted my fair amount of knowledge, he abruptly stood, kissed me perfunctorily, and left me lying in the warm water.
Disappointed that I couldn't entice him to another round of debauchery, I watched him walk inside the apartment, wondering if I'd see him again. He was undoubtedly a talented warrior and competent hunter, and any opponent should be wary of him. But, during years of studying vampires and their intricacies, I'd learned there was always someone more cunning and ruthless.
And you never saw them until it was too late.
o0o
I didn't hear from David for about six months and, although I didn't actually forget him, my life doesn't revolve around one person, occasionally, I did wonder what had become of him. However, I have a business that needs attention, parties to be seen at and, most importantly, lots of bodies able and willing to satisfy the boiling blood pulsing through my veins. The game of seduction - hunter or prey, men or women, it doesn't matter - continues, and many sexy, enthusiastic people or persons join me in the pursuit of the perfect orgasm. Suffice to say, the passage of time went mostly unnoticed.
Despite enjoying the physical aspect of sex, intellectually and emotionally, it leaves me wanting. Still, like a drug addict seeking the ultimate fix, I prostitute my body to acquaintances and strangers alike, hoping to satisfy the hunger that consumes me. Unfortunately, when the last cries of ecstasy fade into silence, I Iie there, the craving hunger within, undiminished, my willing flesh begging for more. Over the years, I've grown to accept that the sexual act, while enjoyable, will never give me the fulfilment I desire.
So you can imagine my surprise when my heartbeat increased dramatically, during a particularly tiresome dinner party when my smartphone informed me I'd received a text from David. I read the short message, aware of a frown forming upon the high society hostess's face. I watched with cruel satisfaction as her frown grew into visible displeasure when I stood up and announced I was leaving: immediately.
David Lincoln's text was specific: I'll be at your place within the hour, be there.
o0o
The urgency was evident from the moment I opened the door. Gone was the smooth, handsome, debonair man I remembered. David Lincoln, the relentless hunter and fearless warrior, was showing his true colours.
His attire of military cast-offs hung loosely around his frame. The tunic and trousers had tears and stains. Of what— well, I'd rather not dwell on that! The scent was what I could only call earthy. There were darker blotches visible but, because he was still alive and standing in front of me, I assumed it wasn't his blood that caused the stains. Unshaven face and wild hair, gave him a rugged outdoors look which made him even more appealing to me. But it was his haunted blue eyes that caught my attention. They burned.
They burned with blood lust, born of triumph over adversity. With David staring intensely at me, I felt the tension and adrenaline-filled emotions fighting for control. A furtive glance towards his crotch told me all I needed to know. Despite his apparent exhaustion, he'd come for release, and he was going to get it. Without a moment's hesitation, he covered the distance between us and, as we collided in the open doorway, our lips met, and our mouths did battle.
Sharing the urgency, I threw my arms around his neck as he grabbed hold of my evening gown and ripped the expensive garment from my body. His hand dived between us, fingers gliding beneath my panties, seeking my acceptance. "I'm ready," I gasped as they slipped inside me. My secretions trickled down the insides of my thighs as he stirred my honeypot.
"Fuck me now," I urged, and hurriedly fiddled with his utility belt. I got more desperate as the seconds ticked away, but my movements were uncoordinated, clumsy. David brushed my hands away, freed himself, and I ground my abdomen against his throbbing meat.
A thin layer of satin between my legs frustrated both of us. "Rip them off," I begged, and another tearing sound filled my ears before David's hard flesh rubbed against my dripping quim. I leaned back against the wall and wrapped my legs around his waist, crossing my ankles behind his back. Supporting my weight with his arms, he thrust his hips forward, and his cock disappeared gloriously inside me.
I slid with ease down his glorious shaft, our groins coming together. He adjusted his grip on me and commenced fucking me hard and fast, his hands pulling at my flesh, his blatant insults turning me on even more. It wasn't sweet or gentle; it was dirty, rough and violent. For me, the beauty of our coupling lay in that violence.
His thrusting was wild and haunted, as was his expression, each movement burying his rigid manhood deep in my dripping oasis; again, and again, and again. Desperately searching for oblivion, I arched into him and sank my teeth into his shoulder as he clenched my buttocks and drove his prick home. Although I was aware of the noise we were making, I didn't care, especially when David decided to take me from behind.
"Turn around, Slut," he hissed.
Obeying, I felt David pull my buttocks apart, exposing my starfish. Hardly daring to believe my good fortune, I waited breathlessly, while he made ready to impale me on his fleshy staff. Despite the excitement, my body protested - well, fleetingly! - As he penetrated me. When his prick surged deep inside, the adrenaline streaming through my veins made the pleasure more intense. David carried on where he'd left off, hands feverishly gripping my hips while his pelvis pounded against my rump.
Our guttural cries formed a crescendo as each powerful movement brought us closer to nirvana, and I wondered who'd reach oblivion first. I'm sure I screamed before David did, but that was because he cheated. As I was teetering on the edge of the abyss, he rammed a hand between my legs, pushing fingers into my slick wetness and rocking his palm on my swollen clit. Immediately following mine, David's roar drowned out my feral wails as, together, our bodies released their climatic fluids.