My dick screams inside my pants, and I can feel the pre-ejaculate wetting my slacks. I want to fuck this woman. It's not an emotion I have often. Normally, it's all based on simple need. I do what I have to do to survive, to keep the demon sated. This feels like pure indulgence. I release Audra with a start, enjoying the way she stumbles drunkenly, planting a palm against the side of her yellow house for support. The way her bare toes sink into the dark green grass at our feet sends an erotic flare humming through my bones.
“I taste the blackness and I fuck out the light. I will teach you to turn the filthy, the nasty, the most putrid parts of your soul into sheer bliss, into an addiction you can't shake instead of a miserable, stilted, blighted existence.” I grit my teeth. I'm used to explaining my services – most people simply don't grasp what I find to be blindingly obvious – but never with this much passion, this intense heat that's blistering my lips and searing my words.
I take a step away from Audra, afraid of what I might do if I don't.
“Why are you here?” she manages to choke out, her eyes far away, floating inside her skull like gems. I look up at the partially cracked back door and wonder what Mark's doing in there right now. Audra snaps out of her daze and follows my look in the direction of her house. “What the hell do you want from me?”
I run my tongue over my lips and slide past Audra, allowing my arm to brush along hers. As soon as I do, I feel her shudder and I know without a doubt that she'll be calling me. They always do. I let myself in the back door, confident that I've disarmed Audra to the point that she won't question me. By the time she recovers from our brief encounter, Mark and I will have escorted ourselves off the premises.
“Aubrey? That you, baby?”
And my dear friend Mark can't even get Audra's name right. How delightful. A real catch.
I unbutton the cuff on my right sleeve and start rolling it up. My footsteps echo loudly on the hardwood floors. What a delicious little house Ms. Holiday has here. Fortunately, my client's playdates almost always take place at their homes; none of them know where I live, and I'd like to keep it that way. If I had the time or leisure, I'd examine the millwork around the doors, the crown molding, the baseboards, but I only have time to absorb the warmth and character of the home before I find Mark, sitting – or rather slumping – on Audra's floral love seat with his bare dick hanging out for the world to see.
I pause in the entryway to the living room, framed between two built-in bookcases.
Mark sees me and the leer instantly melts from his sloppy face.
Me? I smile.
“What the fuck, man? I knew you were fucking stalking me!” Mark jams his dick back in his threadbare pants which is fine by me. I certainly don't want to see it, and despite the fact that Audra invited him into her house, I don't think she particularly wanted to see it either. “Crazy son of a bitch. I'm getting the hell out of here.”
I finish rolling up my right sleeve and start in on my left. If Mark had simply risen to his feet and walked out the front door, he'd have gotten a head start. Instead he flails around and stumbles, crashing into yet another built-in that hugs the fireplace. In his own panic, he loses those few extra seconds I would've given him to run.
My blood, already heated from my encounter with Audra, begins to boil hot in my veins. My head pounds and soon all I can hear is the buzz of the darkness, overwhelming and consuming me. Mark continues to move his lips, but I don't hear a word he says. I'm beyond that point now. I've chosen to sate the howling sins of my soul with blood today, so blood is what I'm going to get.
I slide around the couch and meet Mark at the doorway. My hand fists in his hair, firm but gentle.
“This can either hurt a little, or it can hurt a lot. That's your decision to make. If you fuck around, I can make this last a long, long time. My patience has been honed to a fine blade throughout the years.”
Mark ignores me, thrashing wildly, hands and feet flicking about his person in an absolutely pathetic attempt at self-defense. I see no methods to his madness. Poor, poor Mark.
“Sick fuck!” he screams as I drag him backwards and force him to his knees with sheer, brute strength. The muscles in my arms tense, pressing taut against my skin, drawing beads of sweat on my flesh. But as if I'm in the throes of sex, I don't make a sound. Not a growl, not a grunt, not even a sigh. My face is stoic, but my insides are a tempest of turmoil, churning and thrashing almost as wildly as Mark himself.
In his fear and panic, Mark accidentally brushes himself against my erection, the one that Audra left that won't go away until it's been soothed a thousand times over by me or one of my clients.