Thrall

Author's Disclaimer: All characters depicted are over 18, etc., etc. Enjoy!

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I stared down at the amber liquid as it sloshed around the glass, coating the single sphere of ice. It was a lovely color, and the way it almost lazily slid down the sides after a swirl was like a taunt, begging to be consumed. I obliged, lifting the sweet-smelling liquor to my lips and opening my throat. It slid across my tongue and burned as it went down. The pleasant flavor hinting of apples mixed with the pain to create a satisfying warmth that promised to absolve me of my sins if I just downed another glass. The bartender didn't even ask if I wanted more; he just tipped the bottle and refilled the container.

Why had I let Sophie talk me into this? Why had I even bothered putting on my short black dress to come here? I glanced over my shoulder to confirm that she was still dancing with the Bruce Springsteen look-a-like who bought her a drink within the first five minutes after we arrived. That was almost an hour ago. I turned back and swirled the ball around again in the now much deeper liquid.

I took another sip. As I placed the cup back onto the coaster, I caught movement to my right. The woman sitting next to me crossed her legs, bringing a foot into my field of view. It was an elegant silverish high-heeled sandal exhibiting blood-red toenails and subtly dark skin. The movement wouldn't have drawn my attention at all except that I hadn't realized there was anyone next to me. I was at the end of the bar with a wall to my left and an empty seat to my right. At least I thought the seat was empty. Apparently, in the hustle and bustle of organizing a pity party, I had completely missed the fact that a woman had joined me at the bar.

My gaze was naturally drawn from the foot up to where the woman's legs crossed, her dress just coming into view halfway up her thighs as it draped down like a translucent medieval painting of roses on sheer black chiffon and ruffled around the stool she sat on. That became a tight bodice ending in a sweetheart neckline with delicate straps over her shoulders. I took all of this in as my head tilted up in one casual, fluid motion, finally ending at her eyes.

The smoothness of my motion stuttered at those eyes. They were dark, almost black, with the faintest insinuation of a limbal ring that reflected the color of the roses on her dress, and a gold stud decorated the side of her nose. She looked Middle Eastern or Pakistani, maybe, and younger than my thirty years. Or possibly older. Something in those eyes and her easy poise suggested years beyond her youthful complexion. My only saving grace was that she wasn't looking at me. I turned back to my drink and consciously forced myself to take a breath.

"The pain won't go away by dwelling on it." Her voice, a soothing lilt with a refined British accent, draped around me, not unlike the chiffon she wore.

I turned my head in her direction before responding, but didn't look up from the wooden surface.

"That's why I have this," I said, raising my glass, then taking another swallow.

"You didn't come here dressed like that just to get drunk."

"No, but here we are," I admitted. "My friend convinced me. This was her way of trying to help. Then five minutes after we got here, she abandoned me."

"She left?"

"Not exactly." I swiveled on the stool just far enough to gesture with a dismissive wave at Sophie. "She's the one humping the biker's leg."

The woman followed my gaze and watched the two dance for a second before turning her body to face me directly.

"Ahh. And why did she think you needed to sit here and watch her fornicate with a stranger?"

I couldn't help but smile at her description. "Maybe because I haven't left my apartment in a week," I replied as my smile morphed into a grimace. Why was I opening up to this stranger?

She just watched me without responding, then folded her hands on her lap and her head tilted ever so slightly to one side. She blinked, but said nothing. As I felt the impulse to divulge more, a tinge of anger welled up. My love life was none of her business.

"I broke up with my boyfriend," I blurted. "He made me think he was the one. That we'd be together forever. He baited me along with promises and 'I love yous,' only to rip out my heart and stomp on it the moment I finally accepted that I could be loved."

What the fuck? Where had that come from? I hadn't even voiced that to Sophie, the closest thing I had to a best friend in this city. Yes, it was all true, but what was it about this woman that made me think that she wanted to hear about my pathetic existence?

I spun back to my drink, wishing that I could crawl under the bar. My strawberry blonde hair curled over my shoulder, thankfully hiding my face like a curtain. She would walk away now. No one wanted to have their night out destroyed by someone else's moping.

But she didn't move. After a few moments, delicate fingers swept my hair back. I hadn't even registered that she had moved closer. Her fingernails grazed the skin of my cheek as she tucked the hair behind my ear, and a strange tingle oozed through me, starting where she touched and radiating all the way to my toes. I slowly turned my head to look at her.

The expression on her face was not one of sympathy or pity, which would have repulsed me. Her perfectly groomed brows were furrowed in confusion.

"Why are you upset that such an absolute moron left you?"

My breath caught in my throat and warmth began blooming up my neck.

"What?" I croaked.

"The man has clearly got a few loose screws if he dumped someone like you."

"Someone... like me?"

I wasn't fishing for more; I was genuinely perplexed. A warmth bloomed in my core as the woman's gaze drifted lazily around my face before coming to rest again on my eyes.

"You are beautiful. All of you," she began. "I'm sure your friend hoped that you would find someone to remind you of that... and take your mind off of your ex."

I let out a nervous laugh. Taking compliments always made me feel awkward. Combined with the strange sensations growing inside me, I spoke from the darkness that had suffused my psyche for the past week.

"I never asked to be her project, and I have no desire to be in another relationship right now."

"Hmm, that's too bad," she sighed, turning back to face the bar.

Only then did it consciously register that this gorgeous woman had been hitting on me. My body had been responding to her overtures, but it was so different from how men came on to me that I completely missed it. There was a momentary jolt to my ego, then I realized that I was disappointed that she had taken me at my word and turned away.

"I'm... I'm sorry," I apologized. "If we'd met at any other time, maybe..." My voice trailed off. I had no idea how I would end that sentence. "I hope I didn't offend you."

Her head tilted in my direction again, and the corner of her mouth curved upward. "You are not capable of offending me, sweet girl."

The way she said 'sweet girl' made me feel like a precious child to her, despite me being at least half a decade older.

When she stood up from the stool to move away, I panicked, not wanting her to leave.

"Let me buy you a drink!" I said quickly. "Please!"

She turned back, looking at me curiously. There was a long pause before she answered.

"Alright."

Rather than sitting back down, however, she moved to stand at the bar between our two seats. She smelled of cinnamon and sandalwood. It was a little unnerving to have her that close, but I forced myself to stay still, even though my instincts were urging me to lean toward the wall to maintain some separation.

"Wh.. what will you have?" I enquired.

"Whatever you're having," she answered after evaluating my glass.

I waved down the bartender, who came over without even glancing at the woman standing next to me.

"Whatcha need?"

"Another one of these, please," I said, tapping my still nearly full glass.

He looked at the drink, back up at me, then shrugged and went off to grab another glass. Less than a minute later, he slid the full drink toward me. It seemed rude that he ignored my companion, but I picked up the concoction and handed it to the exotic woman while I picked up my own with the opposite hand.

"What shall we drink to?" she asked, raising her glass to me.

"To lost loves," I answered after only a moment's consideration.

A profound sadness swept the woman's smile away, but only for a moment. When it returned, the expression was forced and not reflected in her eyes.

"To lost loves," she echoed.

Glasses clinked, and she took a sip as I took a gulp.

"I'm Kate, by the way," I said, holding up a hand to shake.

"Nafari," she replied, taking just my fingers with hers. She lifted them and leaned forward as though she was going to plant a kiss, then paused, her eyes lifting to look at me. "May I?"

For some reason, my heart was pounding. I tried to respond, but no words came to mind. Instead, I just nodded.

When she made contact, it was like the world moved in slow motion. I felt every point of soft insinuation as her lips sealed around the knuckle and then puckered. Maybe it was the situation, or the alcohol, but I felt like those pillows were performing the same motion around my nipples. I bit my bottom lip in an effort to stave off a moan. As the kiss was ending, I felt the briefest tickle of her tongue, and my pelvic muscles clenched! I sucked in an involuntary breath and almost whimpered when she stood back up, letting go of my hand. The world sped back up.

"Pleased to meet you," Nafari finished in that crisp accent.

"Y.. you too," I stammered on autopilot, immediately cringing at my ineloquence. If Nafari noticed, she didn't react.

The elegant woman leaned back against the bar and took another sip of the amber liquid.

"This isn't my usual drink of choice, but if your goal is to ignore reality, I can see why you chose it," she commented.

Latching onto a thread of a conversation, I asked, "Oh, what's your preferred beverage?"

Her red lips curled up as her dark eyes drifted down my form.

"I usually go for something with a little more... body."

I felt her scrutiny like a physical touch as she drank in my figure. At least, that is how I interpreted her innuendo at the time. In an effort to hide my reaction and forestall a silly giggle, I took another drink.

Just then, Sophie appeared behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Katie," she chirped.

I hated when people called me Katie, but I'd never been bold enough to correct anyone, so it was my own fault. Turning, I noticed that the biker was still jiggling to the rhythm like a worm behind her.

"Would it be okay if I took you home now?" she began. "We, um," she looked back at the man she had been rubbing all over for the past hour.

"Jack," he answered her unspoken question.

"Jack and I," Sophie continued. "Were going to go to my place, and... uh..."

I scowled at her. Yes, Sophie was my designated driver, and I had probably already had more than I should and operate a vehicle, but couldn't she see I was talking to someone?

"I can take care of her," Nafari offered.

Sophie jolted as though just noticing the woman's presence. Taking in the new arrival, her brows creased and took on a concerned expression. Sophie got close, stepping between Nafari and me.

"Do you even know this woman?" she whispered.

"Do you even know this man?" I countered.

One eye squinted at me, and her lips pursed as she considered. "Fine. But call me tomorrow morning and let me know you're okay. Not too early!" she added as she returned to take the biker's hand.

I thought it was rich that she was worried about me even though she was the one bringing a man she just met back to her place. The two made a beeline for the door. When they were gone, I turned back to Nafari, who was smiling at me.

"I'm flattered that you chose to stay here... with me."

I was a bit surprised, myself, if I were being honest. Her attention was exhilarating. But was I leading her on, just enjoying having someone desire me with no intention of pursuing further? That wasn't like me, and these feelings coursing through me were more. Exactly what, I couldn't say, but something.

"I wasn't finished with my drink," I replied, but with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, of course," Nafari said, matching my smile. She lifted her tumbler to me and glasses clinked again.

Time flew by as we chatted. Her easy smile and occasionally dark wit drew me in and brushed away my melancholy. The conversation slowly became more suggestive, tiny touches and smouldering eyes turning even innocuous statements into blatant flirtation.

Finally, Nafari pushed the issue. "So why is a straight girl spending their evening trying to seduce a woman?" She lifted her drink, letting her tongue trace the lip of the glass before taking a sip. "Maybe you like the idea of me taking care of you?" she added when I couldn't answer.

Her hand dropped to rest on my knee nearest her, a casual motion that sent sparks through me. It was suddenly like we were the only two people in the room. Every ounce of my attention was on her and her touch. If ever I was going to draw a line, this would be that moment. Just gently move her hand away.

I didn't stir in the slightest. Like a nature photographer, I didn't dare shift for fear of scaring off the timid animal. However, when she gently squeezed and the backs of her fingers grazed the opposite knee, I knew that my analogy was backward. I was the frightened creature at risk of bolting.

"Do you want me to take care of you tonight?" Nafari breathed. "I promise you won't think about your ex while you're with me."

Her hand slid an inch further down my thigh. Something told me she wasn't being braggadocious, and I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore.

"I... I don't know," I admitted

Nafari pushed off from the bar and carefully took my glass from my grip, setting it back onto its coaster. To my disappointment, she moved her hand from my leg to cup my cheek as she took a half step into my personal space. Unsure what was happening, I watched as she took my now empty hand and placed it on her hip, holding it there with her own. For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss me, and my heart pounded. Instead, her cheek brushed against mine as she whispered into my ear.

"You know what I want, and I think you know what you want as well; you just have to admit it to yourself." Her head shifted just enough for her lips to tickle my earlobe. "Do you want me, Kate?"

My heart raced, and I took a halting breath. Closing my eyes, I felt her presence, her warmth, and the curves of her body against me. I hesitated, chewing on my lips to forestall the answer bubbling up from deep within. The effort was in vain.

"Y.. yes." It was barely more than an exhale, but Nafari heard me. "Yes, I want you."

"Good girl," the woman purred, caressing my face.

I pressed into her hand and let out a contented mew that escaped completely unbidden. A pouting grunt came next when she let go of my face, but that was followed by a sharp intake of breath when the hand went back to my thigh. It didn't stop at my knee, however; it quickly moved up, under my dress.

"Nafari, I... what...?" I mumbled.

"Shh," she shushed.

As her fingers grazed upward, my legs parted on their own. She only stopped when her pointer met the damp wall of cotton over my sex.

"Someone will see," I said, but otherwise made no move to stop her.

"No one will see anything if I don't want them to," the exotic woman promised.

Before I could process that claim, my attention was captured by fingers pressing against my pussy and gently stirring it through the barrier. How could I be letting this happen, much less in public?

Suddenly, her tongue caressed my ear. Both sides! Simultaneously! I had seen pictures of people who had bifid tongues and always wondered why they would do that to themselves beyond the shock value. As the sensation coursed through me, multiple answers to that question sprang to mind.

"Ohh... nnnggg," I moaned.

"Not too loud, dear. That I can't hide."

I sucked in my lips, trying to follow her request, while reaching up to hold onto her shoulder with one hand and wrapping my arm around her waist with the other.

"Open up a little more, baby," Nafari whispered.

My knees parted another couple of inches, giving her the access she needed to maneuver under my panties. For the first time in my life, another woman was touching my sex, and I was burning up, leaning into her embrace.

The rest of the room was forgotten. The noise, the people, the possible embarrassment of being discovered. None of it mattered.

She explored me while I hung on, every movement possessive yet gentle. My tiny, muffled whimpers egged her on. At the same time, her amazing tongue tasted me from my earlobe to my jaw, and finally down to my neck. There she nibbled, sending pleasant tremors through me.

When two of her fingers captured my button between them and scissored, I let out an involuntary moan loud enough to make the bartender look in our direction. I was sure we had been discovered, but a moment later, he shook his head and went back to making a drink for another patron.

"I told you we have to be quiet," Nafari admonished. "Maybe we should stop."

"NO!" I pleaded without thinking. Taking a second to compose myself, I started over. "P.. please, don't stop. I can be quiet."

"Or we could take this to my place," she offered.

Alarm bells went off in my head, but I didn't care. My desire was overriding any danger sense.

"O.. okay," I said meekly.

Within heartbeats, Nafari was pulling me through the dancers, the crowd parting to allow our passage without ever looking in our direction. In the parking lot, she opened the passenger door of a classic-model black Corvette convertible, holding my fingers to steady me as I lowered into the low bucket seat. It felt like I was practically sitting on the ground. The darker-skinned woman was climbing in a few seconds later, pulling up her dress as she sat to give her legs the freedom to move.

She smirked when she caught me leering at her perfect legs, looking every bit as though she were posing for a magazine.

"It's alright," she said, "you can touch."

I hesitantly reached over and laid my palm in her lap. Her skin was so smooth and warm beneath my fingers. Then the vehicle roared to life, and I felt the muscles of her thigh tighten as she applied the gas. Oh my.

I left my hand there throughout the short drive to a nearby apartment complex, enjoying the feel of her skin and the strength she used to control the powerful machine. Fancy cars had never been a turn-on for me, but this woman's deft handling of it was certainly stoking my libido.

Once parked, she led me not to the stairs up to the main entrance, but around the side to a narrow set of steps leading down to a basement door.

"They make you live in the basement?" I asked.

"'They' don't make me live anywhere," she chuckled. "I own the building."

"The whole building is your home?"

"One of them. But I mostly rent out the upper floors," she answered.

I didn't get the impression that she was trying to dazzle me with her wealth, but I was curious how she had managed it at such a young age. That thought was quickly forgotten, however, when I stepped through the door and into an almost quaint living room seemingly frozen in the 1960s.

The floor was polished micro-cement with a large, shag rug in the center covered in geometric shapes in various shades of orange, tan, and black. The outside wall facing the alley where we entered had sconces between small painted-over windows. They filled the room with the warm hue of an autumn sunset. Teak wood dominated the space, from the polished frame of the low-slung, green-tweed sofa to the floating shelves that lined the entire back wall.

"Make yourself at home," Nafari said as she sauntered past me. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you."

Stepping further in, I looked more closely at the contents of the shelves. They were all meticulously organized, housing hundreds of vinyl records, and vintage ceramic pottery, its glazes of muted greens and browns, sat nestled between small, ancient coins and delicate, unidentifiable mechanical trinkets. Some of the pieces would not have felt out of place in a museum, but here, they came across more like treasured heirlooms.

Across the way, Nafari had pulled out a record and was just touching the needle to the spinning disc. Standing back up, she grinned at me as the unmistakable sound of 'Cupid' by Sam Cooke began to fill the room. Her body began to sway and bob to the music as she crossed the room, her eyes locked onto me. The combination of my intense attraction, those eyes burning with desire, and her playful, sexy body dancing toward me forced a giggle from my throat that I quickly covered with a hand.

I began to move with her, mirroring her graceful undulation to the best of my ability. As we got close, she guided my arms around her midsection and enveloped me with her own. Our eyes locked, and we smiled at each other as we swayed together. Her gaze drifted to my lips. Licking them slowly as she stared, I tilted my chin and cocked my head to the side ever so slightly. Nafari accepted my invitation, our lips connecting, melding.

Both of us seemed to know how the other would move, our lips dancing in unison with our bodies. Parting my teeth, I probed between her lips with my tongue, begging for her to shove hers down my throat, but she pulled back and laid my head on her shoulder. I accepted the new position without resistance and concentrated on the feeling of our bodies weaving together while she held me. Nafari buried her face in my hair and breathed in deeply.

A minute passed like that, the two of us merely existing together. Then she shifted to brush the strawberry blonde locks away and let them drape down my back. Lips pressed softly into the exposed skin, paused, then parted. Her tongue filled the void, stroking gently, then split, the two halves moving independently. I shuddered with the strange sensation. Already on fire, I melted into her, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be stripped down and taken by this erotic foreign woman.

"P.. please..." I heard myself utter.

Her lips parted a little further, and I felt the scrape of her teeth. At the same time, she found the zipper on the back of my dress and slowly lowered it while tenderly kneading a trail of sensual fire down my neck.

A hand moved up to cradle the back of my head, weaving into my hair, then gripped it tightly to hold me in place. It was completely unnecessary; getting away was the last thing I wanted. Nonetheless, it emphasized her strength and who was in control. The erotic thrill of it made me tremble in her grasp.

"You're mine tonight," she said, lifting her head from my neck. "Let me take care of you."

"Yesss, yours... All yours," I murmured.

"Good girl."

With her praise came the pleasurable tingle of surrender. I would let her take me wherever she chose. I would let her have all of me without reservation. I would be her 'good girl.'

As if to emphasize the point, Nafari pulled my dress off my shoulders and pushed me away to stand in front of her like a present she was opening. The garment fell to my waist and stopped, needing a little more help to get past my hips.

Her eyes scoured my exposed upper body, which responded by sensitizing my erogenous zones. My nipples stiffened under her gaze, and my slit further soaked my already uncomfortably damp panties.

"Show me the rest," she ordered, waving a finger at the crumpled mess of cloth around my midsection.

I hooked my thumbs into the dress and my underwear, glad to get rid of them finally. A shimmy and shallow bow later, and I was standing back up completely naked in front of a woman I barely knew, but desperately wanted. As she ogled me unapologetically, I tried to steady my breathing and my heart, hoping that she found me attractive.

"You're exquisite," she purred.

Again, the pleasure of her acceptance rushed through me, and I squeezed my thighs together subconsciously. Nafari stepped forward, towering over me even though she was only slightly taller than me. Her fingers found my slit, one separating my labia to lay claim to the treasures beneath, and I let out a small gasp.

"I'm not always gentle with my pets," she continued, "but I'm never cruel, never sadistic."

Was she suggesting I was her pet? Why was that so fucking arousing?

"Ohhhhnn," I moaned in response.

Nafari smiled, and her finger dipped deeper, the tip breaching my opening. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Does that excite you? The thought of being my pet?"

I couldn't explain why, but the allure of letting go and letting her have me completely was overwhelming. Like a fantasy I'd always had, but never understood. This was something different than letting another person take the lead during sex; this was about submitting yourself to their whims, her whims, about being hers in a much deeper sense than the poetic pleasantries uttered by most couples.

And I wanted it. Her.

"Y.. yes," I admitted reluctantly.

"Yes, what?" she pressed.

I groaned inwardly at being forced to express my shameful desire again.

"B.. being your... your pet... excites me."

"It excites me, too," she winked.

Then her wrist bent further, and the finger inside me went deeper, much deeper! I gasped again and went onto my toes in an involuntary reaction to the sudden penetration. My hands reached up to steady myself against the top of her chest.

"But tonight, we're just pretending, my sweet girl. Tonight is all about you. Enjoy it."

A second finger carefully joined the first, opening me up that much more as her palm began to churn and put pressure on my clit.

"Ohhh, my god," I breathed.

My hips began to move in concert with her rhythm. No one else's fingers had ever felt so incredible, even my own. After only a couple of minutes, I was riding her hand, approaching my climax with abandon.

"Don't cum yet," she commanded, making me whimper.

Just as I was about to reach the point of no return, Nafari stepped back, leaving me empty and panting. I almost crumpled to the floor, but she swooped me up in a princess carry.

"I want to taste the first one," she explained as she dropped me on the sofa.

Her dark eyes with the unnerving red rims stared into me as she quickly removed her dress. The woman's body was magnificent. Perfect curves of olive skin drew my eyes along her legs, her hips, her waist, the small stud in her pierced navel, to incredible breasts capped with dark nipples that made my mouth water. I longed to experience every inch of her.

Nafari climbed onto the couch between my legs and stopped just inches from my core. She smiled seductively up at me. Then her tongue snaked out like two hungry tentacles searching for a meal. A tremor of apprehension mingled with incredible desire just before she dove for the point between my legs.

My back arched as that tongue invaded my sex, feeling even bigger than her fingers. Nafari's hands went under my rear, lifting me up to give her better access. The feeling was like nothing I'd ever even thought was possible, sending waves of pleasure through me with every wiggle and thrust. Every time I thought I was getting used to it and my posture would start to relax, her tongue would pierce deeper. How long could it possibly be?! The whole time, it was moving inside me like both parts had a mind of their own. One would stroke my walls while the other probed my G-spot.

I held onto the cushions for dear life, my body barely managing to stay in one place between the instinct to escape and the desire to press into the onslaught.

"Ohhh, fuck, oh fuck, OH FUUUUCK!" I cried.

Impossibly, that tongue flicked against my cervix, sending my upper body off the surface yet again.

"Oh my FUCKING GOD!"

I was past the point where I usually would have spilled over, but each new titillation took me higher. Finally, I reached my limit. My pussy convulsed and sent a wave through the rest of me in all directions. The motion forced her tongue almost out, only for Nafari to skewer me with it again the next instant.

"Mmmnnnggg," she hummed, almost like she was having a particularly delicious slice of chocolate cake.

My eyes opened wide as I felt a second climax approaching fast. I'd never had multiple orgasms, certain that they were some sort of porn myth, but the wave that shook me to my core in the next instant proved that it was no myth. I trembled and convulsed with the ecstasy flooding my senses.

When I finally began to settle, Nafari lifted her head, that long tongue retracting for longer than should have been possible until just the gently wiggling tips remained in sight. Sweat coated my body, and my insides were still clenching, making me jerk involuntarily every few seconds.

Lazily, teasingly, the dark-haired woman stretched out with her oral appendage to the top of my slit and sandwiched my clit between the two halves of the muscle, moving up and down slowly, sensually.

After two orgasms, every part of my sex was oversensitized, but she seemed to know exactly the level of stimulation I could handle. I thought she was going to coax a third rapture from me, but mercifully stopped and, instead, delicately licked me clean. She ended with a simple, soft kiss to my flower before climbing up to lie on top of me. Cradling my head, she tenderly stroked my hair and face, planting more kisses here and there.

It was yet another unique experience; one that felt luxurious and affectionate. Every other partner I had ever had was focused on the moment of culmination. Not Nafari. After giving me unquestionably the best orgasms of my life, she continued to focus purely on me. I felt... treasured.

After several minutes of rest, I lifted my head.

"It's your turn now," I said. "Let me repay you for... for..." I couldn't find the right words to express just how incredible she made me feel.

"Tonight was for you, little one," she explained, brushing a strand of loose hair from my face.

"But didn't you say I was yours?" I smiled sheepishly. "So... use... use me. I want you to."

I couldn't believe the words I was uttering. Acting so submissive was not part of my character. At least I hadn't thought it was, but with Nafari, it just felt natural.

"You really would make a wonderful pet." The yearning was evident in her eyes and in how her lips quivered for a fraction of a second, but she shook her head. "No."

"No? Why?"

She sat up, separating us physically and emotionally.

"It's... too dangerous," was her answer.

"What does that even mean?" I challenged, sitting up as well.

"It means..." she growled, but then forcibly relaxed and took a breath. Nafari looked down and closed her eyes. When she looked back up, the red outline of her iris had taken over, leaving only her pupils unaffected, the rest glowing faintly red. "What I am about to tell you, you cannot repeat to another living creature. Ever."

A warmth spread over me, leaving my body and mind pleasantly numb. It would be incorrect to say that I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to think. The command Nafari spoke nestled into my brain like a physical rewiring, but I had no desire to fight it.

When her eyes returned to their usual configuration, I blinked, cognizant of every moment and her compulsion. Surprisingly, I wasn't scared, just confused. Before I could put my thoughts into words, Nafari spoke.

"I am a Vampire," she began. "I subsist on blood. Human blood."

To demonstrate her statement, she opened her mouth. Two large fangs unfolded from her hard palate, replacing the ordinary incisors that had been there just prior. In shock, I covered my mouth and scooted as far away from her as I could while still sitting on the sofa.

Logically, I knew I should be terrified, but if she had wanted to kill me, she could have done it at almost any time within the last hour. Then again, she could also change her mind. As I continued to stare, the teeth folded back up, turning her back into the woman I arrived with.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I assure you that you are perfectly safe. Perhaps safer than anyone else in the city." Nafari said this without a trace of hyperbole. It was a statement of fact, not bravado. Then she added, "After all, I take very good care of my pets."

For some reason, a pang of jealousy tightened in my chest. "Do you have many... pets?"

Nafari rose before answering, turning to retrieve her dress.

"No." She spoke without facing me, a deep melancholy hidden just below the surface. "Not anymore. Not for a long time."

There was silence as I watched her slip back into her clothing. I was struck by how tragic it was that such an incredible figure should be veiled.

"Why?" I asked hesitantly.

Just her head turned back, but not enough for her to look at me.

"Are you familiar with the old wisdom that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?"

I nodded, then realized she couldn't have seen the gesture and opened my mouth to respond when she continued.

"Poetic dribble only true for small creatures with small lives. Mayflies and Luna Mouths destined to fornicate and die." She turned away again to look at the wall. "I think it's time for you to leave."

I should have been relieved. She was allowing me to escape. Instead, tears pooled as the pain of rejection returned. More than returned, it was worse than when I was sitting alone at the bar, stewing in the breakup from a man I thought I was in love with.

The realization that I had been faking that love for the sake of promised happiness hit me like an epiphany. I was just as sure that the connection I felt to this woman was something greater, even after only a few hours. The possibility that what I was experiencing was merely the result of the rush of hormones from orgasm euphoria crossed my mind, but I didn't think so.

I stood and crossed the room, intending to wrap myself around her, but she spun before I could get there and put a hand out, halting my advance with her palm on my sternum. She had to be able to feel the pounding of my heart beneath.

"Go home, Kate. Go back to your safe little life and find someone you can grow old with."

Her words were like a punch to the gut. My face began to burn, and the pooled tears began to stream down my cheeks. Nafari softened for a moment, then squared her shoulders.

"I can make you forget this night ever happened, if that will make it easier," she offered.

"No!" I squeaked. "Please... I don't want to forget... you."

"Then let me take you home."

Anger, rejection, and profound sadness overwhelmed me. My chin trembled, and my hands balled into fists.

"Fuck you!" I hissed. Locating my dress, I pulled it over my head without bothering to zip up the back. "I don't need you, and I don't want to see you ever again!"

I snatched my purse and shoes, then stormed out the door onto a suddenly noisy but deserted city street. The concrete was cool and rough against my bare feet as I ran, then jogged, then finally stopped and sat on a bench. A single street light illuminated the area, with moths circling, making the shadows flicker. How many of those poor creatures would never find their mate because a bright radiance enthralled them?

Burying my face in my hands, I sobbed. What was I thinking? I was thinking about her fucking me; that's all there was to it. How did I expect a one-night stand to end? Of course it would bring back all those feelings of abandonment.

I wanted to blame Nafari, but it wasn't her fault. She was probably only with me out of pity, because that's what I was - pitiful. I didn't deserve her attention... anyone's attention. I was so disgusted with myself.

Wiping away the tears, I stood up.

"I don't have time for this," I muttered to myself. "I have work tomorrow."

===========

The Uber driver must have thought me incredibly rude. For the first five minutes, he made attempts to talk to me, and I kept ignoring him. Eventually, he stopped trying, leaving my thoughts of the night to spiral between Nafari's kiss, her rejection, her body, the sadness in her eyes when I asked about her past, to the fireworks she set off in my mind and body. But the memory that continually resurfaced was my jealousy of her... pets. Something about the term triggered a need that I couldn't shake.

I called Sophie the next day as promised. She told me all about her night with the biker, with no fewer than three innuendos about his 'hog.' When it came time for my retelling, I lied and told her that Nafari and I had talked, but ultimately went our separate ways. Well, I suppose I wasn't technically lying. Sophie seemed relieved, saying that she had gotten 'weird vibes' from her. Yeah, I thought, she had no idea.

The intrusive thoughts of my interlude with the vampire, which I was sure would subside over time, only intensified. Every day, I would find myself pressing my thighs together with the memory of her lips on mine, or the image of her climbing between my open legs, or the sight of her standing there with her fangs extended. Fear couldn't douse the arousal, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise.

After the first week, I was coming home from work and going straight to my bedroom to masturbate to visions of her. After the second week, I found myself browsing lingerie online, wondering if Nafari would like me in the garments. It started to affect my work. I couldn't maintain focus without excusing myself to the restroom at least once to release the building sexual tension between my legs.

The first time I went back to the bar, I told myself it was to confront the siren haunting me and to tell her how sorry I was to have ever met her. She wasn't there. I kept going back, my determination waning with each visit. I told myself that I just needed the closure, so I bought a sexy red backless micro-mini that advertised my cleavage and legs. My hair was pulled into a tight bun. To finish the look, I put on a black lace choker that drew the eye to my slender neck. Whatever it took to get her attention. Then I could tell her off and get her out of my head.

My attempts were fruitless anyway. If she was there any of the many nights that I sat in that same spot at the bar, she didn't show herself. For all I knew, she was right next to me and just didn't want to be seen, didn't want me.

A month after our brief but eventful night together, I stepped out of the bar into a night darkened by heavy clouds. In the distance, flashes and low rumbling thunder warned of an oncoming storm, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I walked toward my car, but just kept going instead of getting in.

The pools of light from the street lamps were harsh, unwelcome. The darkness was my refuge, out of sight, out of mind. When tiny sparks of wet struck my skin, I paused only for a moment, then kept going. I was too lost in my grief, in my need, to take much notice or to care.

It was almost a surprise when I looked up from my feet to see her door blocking my path. How had I gotten here? At some point, the sprinkles had turned into a downpour, and I hadn't noticed.

I shouldn't be here, I thought, but couldn't bring myself to leave. I also couldn't bring myself to knock. Rain ran down my hair and face, masking the tears I knew were there, and turning my bright red dress into a dark, muted mess.

The door suddenly cracked, then opened. Nafari stood there, looking at me with deep concern. A bulky knit sweater hung from one shoulder, leaving the other bare and extending to the tops of her legs. I searched her beautiful, questioning eyes, expecting pity. I didn't want her pity; I wanted her. The hours I had spent rehearsing my scorching speech were nothing but a distraction, I knew. That had never been my true goal, just the lie I told myself to redirect my depression.

Now, looking at her, the lies fell away, and I was left with the bare truth of my need. So many ways this could end came to mind as I tried to speak, or leave, or drop to my knees and beg.

"I don't take in strays," she growled while turning. The curve of her perfect rear peeked from under the sweater as she walked away from me.

She hadn't closed the door.

Was that an invitation? Nafari had disappeared into another room. I hesitated, then started to take a step inside when she came back into view carrying a pair of towels.

"Don't get my floor wet. Take off your clothes and leave them outside." Her voice was clear, commanding, and it sent chills through me that went deeper than the cold from the rain.

I glanced back up the stairs to the open alley, then back to the approaching vision.

"What?" I croaked.

"I will not repeat myself. You will follow my instructions, or you will leave."

Another spike of fear struck me, but this was fear that she would send me away. After only a heartbeat's pause, I began peeling off the sopping wet dress. When I was in only my underwear, I wrapped my arms around me for warmth and waited. Nothing happened. Just my eyes slowly rose from the floor at her feet to her expressionless face, one eyebrow raised.

I frowned, but proceeded to remove my bra, which came off easily, and my panties, which did not. I almost tripped pulling the soaked mass from one leg, then the other. Finally, I presented myself completely naked, still standing outside in the pouring rain.

Nafari threw a folded towel at my feet just inside the door.

"Step onto the towel," she ordered.

I did. She threw me the second towel. It was warm, like it had just come out of the dryer. I groaned in appreciation as I held the material to my chest, feeling the warmth already relaxing my muscles.

"Dry off completely," Nafari continued. "Then close the door and clean up any rain you let in. Leave the wet towels in the corner behind the door."

I nodded, but stayed silent, afraid that my voice would give away too much. She sauntered to the sofa while I dried myself off. After squatting down and pushing the two damp items to the indicated spot, I stood back up, arms in an X across my chest, and looked over to where Nafari sat. Even wearing that oversized sweater, she looked every bit a queen in her domain.

Threading my way slowly around the furniture, I approached, her head turning to follow me, those unnerving eyes steady and unblinking. With only the dark wood of the low coffee table between us, I stopped, unsure what to do next.

There was silence to the point of feeling awkward. Say something, I pleaded internally, anything. Her head just cocked to the side as if she could hear my thoughts. Could she?

"P.. please," I finally muttered, putting voice to my sentiments. "Say something."

"What would you have me say, little one?" she countered, voice like warm butter. "In your fantasies, who am I? Go on. Tell me how you imagined this going."

Nothing in my imagination had even remotely mirrored the situation in which I now found myself. I had no answer, and I started to panic. My heart started pounding, and breathing became labored.

"I... I... don't know... I just... this isn't... I can't..."

"Calm yourself," the vampire urged. "I'm not going to throw you out into the storm, naked, at one A. M. You did realize it is one in the morning, I assume."

"Yes... sorry... I didn't mean to... to wake you," I stammered.

She smiled. The first jovial face she'd shown since opening the door.

"I was awake," she smirked.

"Right. Of course."

"But you haven't answered my question." Her demeanor returned to something more stern. "Let me guess. You want another earth-shattering orgasm. Is that it? Or maybe you are one of the ones who thinks it would be romantic to be a blood-sucking vampire. Do you want to be turned, Kate?"

"NO!" I responded defensively. While the sex was incredible, neither of those was why I was here.

Nafari looked skeptical. Her eyes began glowing red, and the next words forced themselves into my brain.

"Tell me the truth!"

The pleasant, almost erotic feeling of complete submission swept through me. My arms dropped to my sides, and my mouth opened to answer. What came out was a surprise, even to me.

"I've been in pieces since the night we met. Even before then. My whole life. For a few hours a month ago, I was whole."

Before I could continue, Nafari blinked, and the red hue was gone. Along with it went the compulsion and my clarity of mind. She blinked again, looking away. The woman stood up and walked away from me, an expression of consternation marring her features. I could only watch with growing concern as she once again disappeared into the depths of her apartment, not once even looking back.

What was I supposed to do now?

A minute later, she reappeared carrying a couple of blankets and a pillow. She threw them onto the couch in front of me, still not making eye contact.

"I'll have some clothes waiting for you in the morning - well, later this morning. You can sleep here tonight," she began, then finally looked up at me. "But don't leave this room while you're here; only blood pets are allowed further." With that, she started to walk away again.

"Wait!" I called after her. "What did I say? Are you angry? I didn't..." But she was gone without otherwise acknowledging my presence.

I rushed to follow, then stopped short at the edge of the room. A long hallway stretched back into the apartment, suggesting that its depths reached much farther than what it appeared from the outside. I dared not defy her stricture.

The sofa wasn't that comfortable to sleep on. The cushion tilted toward the back, making it great for sitting, but created the distinct feeling of being shoved into a corner while lying on it. Occasionally, sounds of movement would filter down the corridor, and I would perk up, hoping that Nafari would return. Eventually, the apartment went quiet.

===========

I woke at some indeterminate time after sunrise. The room was still dark, but tiny strands of sunlight pierced through the small, high windows along the outer wall where black paint had flaked off along the edges. Sitting up, I found all of my clothing perfectly laundered and folded on the coffee table. When had Nafari gone out to get those, and how had she cleaned them? That dress was dry-clean only. Lying on top of the pile was a note written on stiff card stock in a flowing script. It read:

"Kate,

I'm sorry I was terse earlier. You did show up on my doorstep at a strange hour, uninvited. Still, I was more out of sorts than usual, and you surprised me in more ways than one. Perhaps call ahead next time. I also wouldn't be averse to dinner. A late dinner."

Flipping the card over, the opposite side contained her phone number and... and the lipstick imprint of a kiss. I gasped, my heart jumping to my throat.

"Next time," I whispered to no one as I lifted the card, carefully placing my lips against the imprint and imagining the lips that made it pressing back. Joy and hope filled me for the first time in forever.

In my exuberance, I jolted up, letting the blanket pile up around my feet and reminding myself that I was still naked. Then a momentary bout of panic struck again when I remembered where I left my phone. In my purse. Outside! In the rain! Frantically searching around the stack of clothes, I quickly found my somehow dry clutch and pulled out the device. Please work, please work, I thought.

It did, springing to life like I hadn't just drowned it. Breathing a sigh of relief, I immediately added Nafari's number to my contacts as though it might disappear from the card at any second. I started to pace, staring down at the small screen with her name and number staring back.

"Calm down," I told myself. "Remember who she is. What she is. Do I really want to do this?"

I could still just walk out the door and be safe. Return to my old life. Old life. I was already thinking of my past, the world I lived in just yesterday as my 'old life.' I'd already made the decision, I realized; my ego just hadn't caught up yet. I smiled and pressed the message icon.

===========

Later that day, I sat in my apartment watching the sun go down with my phone cradled in both hands. Anxiety grew with every minute that passed and every new star that became visible in the sky as it went from soft purple to a dark navy blue.

Half an hour after that, there was still no reply to my request to have dinner, and my stomach reminded me with a gurgle. Then I grimaced as I recognized my Hollywood-fueled bias. Why would a vampire wake up exactly when the sun went down? Expecting Nafari to adhere to some fantasy trope was being unreasonable.

Just as I had decided to stop hovering and get a snack, my phone buzzed. My breath caught as I read her response.

ME: Dinner tonight?

ME: Or whenever

NAFARI: I was hoping you wouldn't wait to text me

NAFARI: Dinner

NAFARI: The Gilded Plum 9:30

The Gilded Plum was an upscale restaurant near downtown, a good twenty-minute drive away. It was already past nine! After sending a quick acknowledgement, I checked myself in the mirror and rushed out.

Due to some frustratingly long lights, I burst through the entrance to the restaurant at 9:31. A scan of the small seating area just inside didn't find Nafari, so I approached the hostess behind her podium. Before I could say anything, she looked up and smiled.

"Ahh, you must be Kate! Right this way."

The woman led me back through the establishment, passing numerous tables, half of them empty, until we reached a section where the walls were lined with large circular booths surrounding round tables. They were spaced to allow for privacy, and there were no other dining spots in the room. As we neared a booth near the corner, I caught sight of Nafari sitting there, looking at her phone. Looking up, she smiled and stood.

The vision that greeted me was a Hindu goddess to rival Lakshmi herself. Nafari wore a cerulean blue saree that sparkled along the borders. Her chest was adorned with a tight, short-sleeved crop top showing off her flat tummy and a belly button now decorated by a dangling jewel. Draped over one shoulder was a loose cloth with a subtle ombre that melded into a long skirt tied low around her hips. So low, in fact, that the crease of her V peeked out from the top. Her dark hair was in a single immaculate braid that hung down, hiding one breast.

She took my breath away. The expensive cream dress I had chosen now seemed like a burlap sack. Finding my voice at the last moment, I managed, "You look... incredible."

"So do you," she replied while stepping aside to let me scoot around the table.

Nafari glided in next to me. When I started to continue around, intending to give her some space, she put a hand on my leg.

"You're fine right where you are."

Heat rose into my cheeks as I froze under her touch. The gesture lingered, her fingers gently squeezing while the hostess filled water glasses and informed us that our server would be with us shortly.

As the young woman walked away, Nafari turned to me.

"You're late," she said, but there was a playful lilt in her tone.

"I'm sorry. The lights..." I began to explain, but she cut me off.

"No apologies." She paused, eyes roaming over my face. "I'm happy you're here. That I didn't scare you off."

"You could never scare me off," I said confidently.

"I am quite certain that is not true," Nafari chuckled. "But I'm not going to test you." She looked deep into my eyes. "There is something about you that draws me in. If you will let me, I'd like to find out what that is."

I didn't want to read anything sinister into her words, but a part of me was still cautious.

"Let you? How?" My voice cracked despite my attempts to keep it steady.

Nafari's grin widened. "My apologies; sometimes I am more verbose than necessary. Let me try again." She cleared her throat. "Kate, I would really like to get to know you better."

"W.. what... what do you want to know?"

For most of the meal, Nafari asked me questions and listened intently to every answer. I told her about my family, my miserable job, holiday traditions, and every one of my exes. She seemed interested in even the mundane parts of my past: sports, favorite teachers, hated teachers, the color of my sneakers in high school; no topic was too large or too small. I tried to turn the tables and ask about her life, but she kept telling me 'later' and asking me something else about myself.

As the waiter removed our dinner dishes, however, I stood my ground.

"That's all there is to tell!" I insisted. "You now know everything about me!"

"I believe I could spend multiple lifetimes and never reach that lofty goal," she said wistfully.

I blushed, but was determined not to fall for her flowery words.

"And I know next to nothing about YOU!" I accused.

She held up her hands in surrender.

"You're right, you're right. I've been selfish. And stalling," she admitted. "I confess that I am somewhat apprehensive about what you might ask, but I resolve to be as forthcoming as possible."

Now that she had opened the door to my questions, I had trouble thinking of any. Then I looked down at her plate with the remains of a wild mushroom and parsnip ragout served over a truffle-infused polenta. Of all the carnivore items on the menu, she had picked one of the few that were completely meatless.

"Let's start with what you ordered. I've never heard of a vegetarian v... person like you."

Nafari laughed. A hearty, leaning-back laugh that sounded like music. When she composed herself and looked back, there was a sparkle in her eyes.

"Would you believe it's for religious reasons?"

I thought about that, not sure if she was joking, but it didn't feel right.

"No?" I answered.

"Ha! Perceptive girl. No, I've been around long enough to see religions rise and warp to Man's insecurities." The vampire leaned toward me conspiratorially. "Have you considered that I am lulling you into a false sense of security?"

I matched her lean, stopping inches from her alluring features.

"Whoever said I wanted security?" I quipped. "Now stop delaying and answer my question!"

Nafari pulled back with a snort. "Cheeky girl! Fine. I like mushrooms."

"What? That's it?"

"That's it. You wanted the truth; that's the truth. I like mushrooms. Happy?"

"So... you're not a vegetarian vam... person?" I prodded.

"No more than you are. And no, I do not crave raw steak or whatever other weird stereotype you have in your head. Next question," she said, giving me a nod.

"If v... your people don't match the stories, where did the stories come from?" I asked.

"There is often truth behind myth, but almost never what you might think."

"Such as?" I encouraged.

"Well, we aren't repulsed by garlic, for example," Nafari began. "You know how some people think cilantro tastes like soap? Well, that's kind of our reaction to garlic. It tastes like rotting fish. Yes, repulsive, but not the way the legends suggest. It's a genetic thing. And sunlight does hurt us and can be fatal, but not in some puff of smoke."

"And..." I lowered my voice. "A wooden stake through the heart?"

She smiled again with that one.

"I'm pretty sure a stake, wooden or otherwise, through the heart would kill anyone."

Right. That made sense, and I felt silly even having asked that. My next query popped into my mind, and I stiffened. Maybe this one could wait, but I needed to know.

"What about bites?" I asked hesitantly. "Do they... you know... change people into..." I trailed off.

"No," was all she said, looking down briefly and shaking her head.

"So that's why you couldn't... for your previous... companions," I added, completing the logic out loud.

"It doesn't work that way," the beautiful vampire confirmed. Centuries of sadness and loss were being held behind those dark eyes by the sheer force of her will.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. After a moment, my brows creased. "How do... your kind... reproduce then?"

Her expression lightened, and she gave me a smirk. "When two people love each other very much..." she said as though she were a mother speaking to a toddler.

"Okay, I walked into that one." I rolled my eyes. "So, there's no truth at all behind biting someone being how new... people are born?"

"That one is... complicated," she admitted, but didn't elaborate.

With the mood lifted again, however, the conversation continued through dessert and drinks after. When the waiter came to the table to hesitatingly tell us that they were an hour past closing time, I looked around to see that only our little oasis still had lighting. I was so engrossed in Nafari that I hadn't even noticed everyone else leaving.

I started to apologize when Nafari laid enough cash on the table to pay for our bill twice over.

"Thank you for your indulgence," she told the politely waiting attendant.

"It's nothing, Ms. Shahr. Sorry for cutting your night short."

We were silent until the door of the restaurant closed behind us and we were walking back to the parking lot.

"Was that your real name, or an alias?" I asked.

"You seem to think of me as some clandestine, nefarious creature of the night," Nafari teased.

"Well?" I pressed.

"It is part of it," she sighed. "The long version is a mouthful, so I haven't used it in ages."

As smoothly and casually as I could, I caught her hand in mine, weaving our fingers together without breaking stride.

"May I hear it... please?"

We walked a few more paces hand-in-hand before she responded.

"Nafari Banu Azar-Shahr," she answered, the syllables rolling off her tongue like an ancient spell.

"It's... beautiful. Thank you." I looked sideways at her. "Does it mean something?"

"Why is it that Westerners always think that a foreign name has to mean something? What does Johnson mean?" Nafari shot back with a sarcastic, impish lilt.

I giggled.

"Alright, bad example," she admitted.

Another couple of steps of silence.

"You're stalling again," I pointed out.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are annoyingly persistent?"

"Stalling!"

"YES!" Nafari grumbled. "Yes, damnit, it... it means Lady of Fire."

I thought we were having playful banter, but I was struck by just how much pain lay behind that name, and was sorry I pushed.

"Look, I didn't mean to pry," I began, but she waved me off.

"That is long past. I am not that woman anymore. Another reason why I don't use my full name."

We reached my car, but before I could grab the door handle, Nafari spun me around to face her and pressed me into the cold metal. I uttered a small yelp that turned into a soft moan when she forced her thigh between my legs. Her right hand cupped my cheek as her left slid down from my waist to my rear. It paused to make a circle around my ass, then proceeded lower, lifting my leg and wrapping it around herself.

So strong and assured. So possessive. My heart thumped, my body responding immediately. Nafari's face was almost on me, our noses nearly touching.

"I enjoyed getting to know you, Kate," she breathed, voice husky with need. "But I want more."

Words escaped me. I was a raw ball of desire for this incredible, exotic creature. It was so strong that, for a moment, I wondered if she had compelled it from me, but I would have felt that. No, this was all rising from deep within. This was all me.

Instead of responding verbally, I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her to me until our lips melded. Our tongues joined an instant later, hers splitting and doing the work of two. Our bodies squirmed together, heat and passion rising with every passing moment.

Nafari broke the kiss, her lips moving to trace my jawline. Her tongue slithered down my neck, and I trembled in her arms, but made no move to escape.

Suddenly, she stopped, putting some space between us.

"We should stop," she panted.

"No!" I pleaded, sounding much more desperate than I intended. "It's okay! I trust you."

Slowly, I brought one arm behind my head and swept all my hair to drape over the opposite shoulder. Then I tilted, presenting my vulnerable neck to Nafari like an offering. Her chest heaved, and her eyes were locked onto the pulsing surface, battling her own instincts. Lips parted, and two fangs folded into position.

"Are you sure?" Nafari asked.

"I'm... I'm sure," I replied with as much conviction as I could project.

I jumped in surprise when, instead of plunging to my neck, a hand reached under my dress and squirmed into my panties. As if in representation of what was to come, two fingers penetrated my opening easily, lifting me to my toes and eliciting a guttural moan.

"I'll make this as pleasurable for you as I can," the vampire promised.

My core was already primed, and her fingers knew exactly how to stoke my arousal. An orgasm began to build even as her face lowered slowly, my hands gripping her torso for stability.

I was only seconds away from spilling over when I felt a sharp pain. Even expecting it, my eyes opened wide, and I gasped. The pain in my neck somehow mixed with the pleasure in my pussy, creating an experience that defies description. My extremities went weak, but my center was alive, quivering as a deep pleasure spread from where the pain was already subsiding. I was aware of my arms going limp at my sides, but couldn't muster the strength to move them.

Still, the pleasure rose. The climax that had paused when her teeth penetrated my skin was climbing again, my body starting to shake in anticipation like a volcano before an eruption. I knew I was constantly vocalizing the rising ecstasy, but I couldn't hear it over the pounding rush in my ears.

Despite my helpless state, I was disappointed when the stiff needles were extracted from my neck. I wanted to tell her that I was fine, that I was so close, but my body was not my own, and nothing but erotic sounds issued from me. Then something replaced the stiff invaders. They were soft and wiggled into the open wounds. My breath halted with tiny jolts of intense pleasure as the two new assailants tasted my insides as thoroughly as they had tasted my pussy so many weeks ago. In and out, they went. Not as deep as the fangs, but just as insistent. The sensation was different, but not dissimilar. Her tongue was fucking me; this time directly into my veins, while her fingers did the same lower.

It was too much! My body convulsed as a wave of ecstasy shot from my neck to my sex, triggering a second, more intense wave that shot back up. It was a feedback loop of orgasm after orgasm, rocking my consciousness as darkness folded in around me.

===========

I was back on Nafari's couch. Sitting up, I immediately felt fuzzy, but it subsided as long as I didn't move too much. And I was without clothing. Again. A hand went to where I'd been bitten. I couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary. No scabs, no holes, not even a bandage. Looking around, I searched for a mirror, but didn't see one. Was the lack of mirrors another vampire thing? After yesterday - or earlier today - I suspected that was just another erroneous myth.

Standing up to do a more extensive search, I took half a step only to discover that my right ankle was chained to the furniture, which itself was bolted to the floor. What the hell? The next moment, I collapsed back onto the sofa as my legs folded beneath me. My head swam, followed by half a minute of nausea while I just lay there. Luckily, my stomach settled without me emptying it onto the floor.

Much more slowly, I sat up again and took stock. On the coffee table sat a large silver tray piled with enough food for five people, along with an empty glass and a pitcher. Beside the glass was a small pill bottle with a note leaning up against it.

It read:

"Kate,

Sorry for the restraints. I got a little carried away this morning, and you are in no condition to leave. It's for your own good. Your lack of clothing I do not apologize for. That was all for me.

Please eat all you want and drink some orange juice. In addition, take one of the iron supplements. I'll be back shortly to release you. Try to hold it."

Hold it? What did... oh.

I hadn't felt like I needed to pee until she mentioned it! Now I couldn't NOT feel the slight pressure on my bladder. I also felt the growling of my stomach.

The tray contained an assortment of fresh pastries, bacon, and fruit. Pulling the tray closer, I also saw that it was made of polished metal! After stuffing a cheese danish in my mouth and pushing some of the other items out of the way, I leaned over to get a view of the damage to my neck. There was a bit of redness, but I was otherwise uninjured. As far as I could tell, I had no desire to drink blood or avoid the slivers of sunlight poking through the aging black paint on the windows.

Looking down, I tugged on the chain attaching me to the couch until it went taut. I smirked; being a vampire's naked prisoner was strangely sexy.

What felt like forever, but turned out to be about two hours later, I was lying on the sofa with my legs crossed, trying to distract myself from the growing need to tinkle.

"Oh, you poor girl," Nafari exclaimed as she showed up at the entrance to the hallway without a sound. She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail, looking every bit like she was ready to attend classes at a nearby university. "It took me a little longer than expected to gather and arrange your things. How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm going to make a mess on your floor!" I replied, not able to process what else she had said.

Before I could sit all the way up, she was grabbing my foot and lifting it into the air. An ancient-looking metal key was inserted into the iron cuff around my ankle, which clanked as it came open. Without waiting for an invitation, I rushed toward the hallway, but stopped short.

"Where's your restroom?" I whimpered.

"Second door on your right," Nafari responded calmly.

The room that I burst into was a water closet with barely enough space for a freestanding sink and a toilet, but that was all I cared about. As relief washed over me, I replayed Nafari's words in my head. Did she say 'gather and arrange' my things?

After pausing just long enough to wash my hands on the way out, I stormed out almost as fast as I went in, only to nearly run into Nafari.

"May I have my clothes back now?" I asked while trying to cover my personal areas. It hadn't seemed important while running for the bathroom, but now my modesty was reasserting itself.

"No," she said.

"No? Why?"

"Because I threw them out," she stated as though it was an obvious answer to a silly question.

"You... threw them out," I repeated, not completely convinced that I had heard her correctly. When she didn't correct herself, I echoed one more time with a bit more indignation. "You THREW THEM OUT? That was an expensive dress!"

"Oh, not just the dress. All of your clothes."

I like British humor. It is dry and witty. I stared, dumbfounded, into her placid face, looking for any hint of mirth. This wasn't a joke.

"You went to my apartment?"

"Mmhm."

My stomach flipped thinking about my walk-in closet. My empty walk-in closet. Thousands of dollars that I'd spent over years finding just the right looks. Gone.

I let out a pitiful groan, and my knees went weak. The floor started to charge toward me, but Nafari caught me.

"Oh, dear. It seems you are not as recovered as I thought."

Before I knew it, she was carrying me in her arms like I weighed nothing, even though I was probably at least as heavy as she was. We were back in the living room by the time I got my wits about me.

"I'm fine!" I insisted. "Put me down!"

Nafari ignored me for a few more steps, then set me on my feet.

"You seem upset, pet," she observed.

"Ya think so?" I shot back. "You threw away ALL MY CLOTHES! Wait... what did you call me?"

One corner of her mouth curled up.

"I called you my pet." She reached up and swept a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

My mouth went dry. Fantasies of hearing those words flashed back from my memories, from those weeks alone after meeting her. But... but...

"I have a life," I said.

"That I will guard with all of my being," Nafari answered.

"A job..."

"That you hate."

"My family," I continued, but my rebuttals were losing their fervor.

"I will not let you lose them."

"I... I... I have no fucking clothes!" I finally said, running out of excuses.

She smiled.

"I will replace each and every stitch ten times over with the finest garments tailored to you, my pet."

"But I didn't agree to this." There was no indignation left, just a nearly exhausted list of obstacles that had to be addressed.

"Yes, sweetie, you did," Nafari said soothingly, drifting closer and cupping my face in both her hands. "When you freely offered your blood, you gave yourself to me."

"I didn't know."

She kissed me softly and stepped back.

"If you had known at the time, would it have made a difference?"

Fear of what it would mean, fear of the unknown, fear of losing myself, and fear of rejection all warred with the desire to be hers completely. I had lost my voice; I couldn't answer.

Red began to glow behind her eyes.

"No, please." I shook my head.

The glow faded, replaced with compassion.

"All I ask is the truth, Kate. For me, and for you. Would it have made a difference?"

I took a halting breath and felt a tear crawl down my cheek, but it was a mystery what it meant. Perhaps my heart already knew something my mind hadn't acknowledged. Slowly, my head rocked from side to side as my chin began to wobble.

"No," I managed.

"Do you want to be my cherished pet?" Nafari lifted my chin with a knuckle and gave me an impish grin. "I'll still replace all your clothes even if you say no."

I snorted a laugh through the increasing waterworks. That's when I knew they were happy tears. I wasn't being rejected or abandoned. Nafari, this unique, beautiful, incredible creature who could have anyone and chose no one, wanted me.

Me!

I started nodding, then threw myself into her arms.

"YES! Yes, I do," I sobbed, burying my face in her neck.

Nafari hugged me to her and kissed my tears away.

"I haven't been this happy in many, many years," she whispered.

Eventually, we disentangled. Then Nafari Banu Azar-Shahr, ancient vampire, The Lady of Fire, took my hand and led me back into her private sanctum reserved only for herself and her blood pets.