Scenario: by Mary, posted 8.27.02
The woods. Perfectly serene, so
it seemed. I crouched, in the midst of dried
leaves. Suddenly, galloping. A horse? At
this hour? The full moon gleamed, and
through the branches, I caught the scent of
a well-groomed mare; and a man atop it,
clutching the reins.
Betwixt his fingers, he
clutched a handkerchief, nervously wiping
the sweat from his brow and neck. An
attractive boy, maybe in his late teens?
Hmmm. No. This was more of a man, early
twenties. Long chestnut locks. Pointed tuft
of hair on his chin. Hazel eyes. Even from a
hundred yards away, I watched his throat bob
as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting
about. Before he released the handkerchief,
and jerked the reins. The mare whinnied,
before galloping off.
The scent! My nostrils
flared at the faint scent from the piece of
cloth he dropped. Mouth watering; I carried
forth. Even in my frail human form, my
senses were heightened in full vampire
awareness. I picked up the piece of white
cloth stained in sweat, brought it to my
nose, and took a deep whiff.
His scent was like nothing I
could describe. Titillating. Engaging. There
was some blood on the handkerchief. I poked
my tongue out of my mouth to taste the patch
of sanguine fluid. He was delicious; I
decided I must have him.
My eyes locked onto his
direction as I kicked off the ground
commencing my chase. Floating, so it felt. I
hardly felt my feet touch the ground.
Incredible speed.
A mansion ahead! Darkness,
but alit; music echoed into the night. A
ball? No, a masquerade. In the high windows,
I saw many masked people dancing to the
sounds of the orchestra, drinking, and
talking.
Balancing myself carefully,
I adjusted my dress. Red satin with a long,
slightly puffed skirt, and off the shoulder
cap sleeves. Matching cerise heels. Was I
ready? I paused, before slipping inside.
A door to the cellar was unlocked.
As I slid stealthily into the
ballroom, I reached up and placed on my
red-feathered mask. Taking a whiff of the
air, across the ballroom, amidst many
bodies, I spotted him. He turned to me as if
by command, his hazel eyes glowing through
the lion mask he wore.
Trancelike, he edged his way
closer to me. White silk poet’s shirt.
Halfway undone. I watched in a daze. His
flesh, so golden and firm; I could almost
taste the blood pumping under his skin.
Black pants, black shoes. Well dressed and
sturdy, he was perfect.
I turned and stepped up the
winding stairwell that was at the end of the
ballroom. Marble. He was following me; I
smiled inwardly. He would be mine. Once up
the stairs, I paused and turned to him,
leaning in to sniffle softly at his neck.
His head lifted back.
“Du riechst so gut,” I
whispered hoarsely.
“Hmm?” he murmured.
He had removed his mask, his
eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. I
nibbled softly at his collarbone, drawing
him close to the corridors that held many
rooms.
“You smell so good,” I
repeated in English.
He chuckled as I nipped at his
throat and reached behind me to open a door.
Inside it was dim. The only
light was by way of the lunar moon streaming
through the window. He crawled on the bed,
leaned back on his elbows, and watched me.
My mask was gone, lost on the floor with my
shoes. I moved on my hands and knees onto
the bed, crawling forth. I felt the heat
continuing to rise from him, almost feeling
his blood rushing as I neared.
As I pressed myself against
him, I kissed his neck; feeling my eyes
flash crimson. My fangs slid out; pearly
white, gleaming in the light.
“Du riechst so gut,” I
muttered again, hearing him moan in
response.
My fangs sank into his neck
piercing the fair flesh. His blood sprang to
the open wounds as he moaned once more,
letting me drink from his neck. I licked the
twin openings in his neck, as I moved away,
my lips and mouth stained with blood of a
sweet demigod.
“So good . . .”
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