well, I guess this was supposed to go to Jadfe, not the FKFIC cd-rom.  Do
you mean "by author" or "by paring?"  I'd do both.  Anyway, here is the
story in text format.  I had forgotten that my copy was in wp form

Mel



New Jadfe: 10/4/96

Explicit Sex: M/F LaCroix and a mortal female, Ariana.

"The Misadventures of a Foolish Mortal" (1/1)
By Melissa "Cousin Mel" Puzio
(c)1996


I stared at my image in the full length mirror, shocked with disbelief.  =
My normally business-as
usual exterior was now one of pure pleasure; transformed into that of a =
smoldering sex goddess.=20
Everything about my outward appearance was perfect, everything to the =
silken threads of my
hair, to the gleaming tips of my toes.  Those auburn curls were arranged =
into an artful upsweep,
secured tightly enough to stay up all night, yet pinned loosely as to =
fall with the right touch. =20

My pale, ivory-yellow (golden tones here, not pink) skin was flawless =
and creamy, soft and
smooth, not a pimple or blemish in sight and its pores, quite =
imperceptible.  Dream skin, all
thanks to a salon facial and some powder-to-cream makeup base.  My =
cheekbones are enhanced
with the barest sweep of brown blush, its purpose to sculpt the fine =
edges of my face; nothing
pink or peachy to corrupt the porcelain finish of my skin.  My eyes were =
softly smoky; the sea-green orbs enhanced by the correct application of =
charcoal eye shadow and artfully smudged
black eyeliner.  My slightly full lips were played up to their best; =
lined with nude pencil and
tinted with a rich, blood-red lipstick.  Mmmm, they look delicious and =
kissable.

My dress is of black satin; a halter necked, floor length, slit up the =
back number.  The neckline is
moderately plunging; cut low enough to reveal a glimpse of immaculate =
cleavage, but not so low
that the effect is trashy.  The dress's overall fit is body hugging, but =
not skintight.  The long satin
column skims the lines of my body oh so nicely, highlighting my slim =
figure and fairly generous
curves.  The softly shiny fabric is incredibly sensuous to the touch, =
and I rub my hands down my
sides; rolling my fingers around the magic cloth.  This is definitely a =
dress that makes the wearer
look and feel absolutely glamourous.  It also looks equally at home =
deposited in a puddle on the
floor by the bed.

I hike up the hem of the dress and inspect my legs.  The long limbs are =
encased in black silk
stockings, the stay up kind with lace trim.  I've never been a fan of =
gartered stockings; they only
seem to be fun when someone else removes them for you.  The lace of the =
silicone-backed tops
echo the design decorating my bra and matching panties.  Both a purchase =
from a shopping trip
last week, to Victoria's Secret, just for this occasion.  The panties =
are one of those extremely
high cut, Brazilian bottomed deals, and the bra is underwired and double =
padded.  At 34C, I
hardly need to add a cup size, but the little extras give my bust just =
the right amount of oomph to
make them perfect.  The Patricia bra: the ultimate in figure flattery.  =
Pamela Anderson, eat your
heart out! -- These are real, girl!

My accessories have been chosen with care; nothing too gaudy or =
ostentatious to distract from
my beautiful face, subtly dramatic dress or dynamite figure.  My triple =
pierced ears are only
doubly adorned this time.  Black fringed, chandelier earrings are =
inserted into the first set of
holes.  They nearly brush my shoulders and slightly swing when I turn my =
head.  In my second
set of piercings, I have chosen diamond studs.  They are shaped into a =
pear cut, a fresh variation
on the traditional round design.  When the light hits them just right, =
rainbows gleam in the
expertly cut facets.  Diamonds are always a girl's best friend, even =
when she buys them herself.

Because of the halter neck, I wear no necklace.  The only accessory here =
is my gleaming skin,
which I do show a nice bit of.  Creamy shoulders, a smooth decolletage, =
and a glimpse of a
flawless back are some of the unhidden treasures displayed to full =
advantage.  The only other
jewelry adorning my body, are both my grandmothers' engagement rings and =
a single gold
bangle on my right wrist; cut with a brilliant Florentine pattern.

On my feet are a pair of strappy, black silk peau de soie platform =
sandals.  They have to be at
least three or four inches high, but fortunately, the heels are fairly =
wide and sturdy.  All to make
my legs look even sexier than they already are, and most importantly, to =
add height to my 5'4
inch frame.  Hey, I can't be straining my neck trying to kiss someone, =
should I be so fortunate.

I peer in the mirror again to take another long look at myself.  God, do =
I look gorgeous!  It's
been too long since someone other than myself or my father said that to =
me.  Of course, he
wouldn't say those exact words, he'd give the typical, "man in your =
life" response of, "nice."   =20
And it's been eons since, "what's his face" broke up with me.  But, =
enough of the past, we won't
have to mention his name ever again.  Tonight, for once, I am breaking =
out and having fun!=20
Maybe even get lucky, it's also been far too long since that last =
happened.

******************************************

I wait outside in the line encircling the block around the Raven, along =
with the throngs of other
people craving to penetrate the heavy steel doors and be transported to =
the mystical world that is
the club of the moment.  The biker-god bouncer is turning away what =
looks like every other
person.  I don't know if this is one of those snobby places where they =
send you away if you don't
fit the dress code, or the bouncer just has a keen sense that these =
prospective customers are the
type to cause mucho trouble.  Either way, the refusal of people =
left-to-right is making me just the
tiniest bit agitated.  I didn't get all dressed up just to get rejected.

Normally, if anything would go amiss, I'd just find another club to make =
the evening rounds in.=20
But, I must get to the Raven.  It is considered the "IT" place to be on =
a Saturday night, or any
night, and Lord knows I've never been able to resist a hotspot.  The =
Raven has been rumored to
be a vampire bar, or some such nonsense.  Everyone knows there's no such =
thing as vampires,
right?  It's probably just one of those upscale goth bars, where the =
wannabes, yuppie and
otherwise, hang out.  Where the denizens dress in black leather and =
chains, slap on the white
pancake and act out their favorite new-wave Dracula or Frankenstein =
fantasy.

After what seems like hours out in the chilly eve, I finally emerge to =
the front of the line.  The
bouncer cuts an imposing figure dressed head to toe in black leather and =
metal spikes.  His
abnormally pale complexion also adds to the frightening picture.  Like I =
should talk.  I've had
many a person tell me to take a flight to Florida and go lie on beach =
somewhere, so I can get a
tan before I scare them off.  He gives me a lascivious gaze up and down =
and opens the door for
my entrance; inviting me into his world.  First test passed, now it's =
party time!

I enter the relative darkness of the club.  I'm assuming it's kept dark =
to preserve the Gothic, but
elegant ambience.  The dance floor is set ablaze with rotating lights of =
assorted colors:  reds,
blues, greens and golds.  They shine on the moving figures, all whom are =
grinding to a pulsating
beat.  The throb of the dance music pounds in my ear; quite reminiscent =
of a strong heartbeat,
and it echoes the steamy steps of the dancers.  Almost everyone is =
grouped off into couples: male
and female, male and male and female and female.  Nothing is taboo, no =
signs of homophobia or
prudishness.  A taste for everyone, I suppose.    The couples are almost =
joined at the pelvis,
bodies undulating and swaying to the sexy rhythm of the night.  Bodies =
pressed against each
other in a prelude to sex, or perhaps just an experience close enough to =
sex without having to
take your clothes off.  Maybe I will find myself a good looking young =
stud to dance the night
away with, but first, a drink.

I grab a space at the bar and order my usual libation, vodka and =
cranberry juice.  The bartender
is a short, bearded little fellow dressed in a black t-shirt and black =
leather pants; the de rigueur
uniform at this place.  He kind of reminds me of an Ewok in bondage; =
quite a contrast from the
big goateed bouncer out front, although they are both working the biker =
scheme nicely.  I hand
him a twenty and tell him to keep em' coming.  He asks me if I'd like to =
start a tab, and I say
"yes," knowing instinctively that I will be back here often.

I take a sip of my drink and I am set aback.  It is quite potent, for =
the little guy was not stingy
with the vodka.  He certainly was a pro at fixing a good drink.  For =
courage, and a few other
things, I quickly quaff my drink, swallowing its contents in a few =
gulps.  Without a thought, I ask
for another round.  Not smart, but hey, all smarts and no stupidity make =
Ariana a dull chick.  At
the pace I was imbibing, soon I wouldn't have the clarity to dance, much =
less stand.   But, what
the hell, you only got one life, as the cliche goes.

I guzzle my drink halfway down and decide to attempt to prove myself on =
the dance floor.  Now,
the music has been switched from a slow, pulsing moan, to an up tempo =
number, and the rest of
the young, ready to mingle, singles have approached the area in my wake. =
 I scan the crowd for
takers.  There are the usual fright-night wannabes, but there are also =
chicly dressed sophisticates,
like myself.  I look for all the available men, a warm body I can spend =
the evening with.=20
Unfortunately, right now, there is no one I want to hook up with, =
platonically or sexually.

Ah, but my prayers are then answered as I see him.......or is that hear =
him?  The mysterious voice
from behind the glass booth.  Tonight, he's giving a monologue on the =
horrors of guilt, but there
is no guilt in my heart, only a healthy, lustful admiration for a sexy =
man.  His voice is intensely
powerful; its resonance reverberating in my ears and filling my belly =
and loins with liquid fire.=20
The silky tones caressing the air like velvet brushing against bare =
skin; alternately switching
from sensual and sinister, but to me they are one in the same.  There is =
something absolutely
magnetic about that voice, something so compelling, that it draws me =
straight to him.  It makes
me want to slither behind that glass partition, join him in that booth, =
and whisper in his ear,
"tonight I'm yours."

But, despite my previous intentions of "getting lucky," I chicken out.  =
My courage left standing
outside the door with the rejected misfits daring to come inside.  After =
a brief, but energetic
dance where I shake my body for all its worth, I return to the bar; in =
need of another drink.  I
order another vodka and cranberry, and for a change, I actually sip it, =
slowly.  It is here and now,
that I take a better look at my future paramour.

He is an older, sophisticated gentleman of fair complexion and =
close-cropped, dark blond hair, a
contrast from the peroxided and ebony dyed shags floating around the =
discotheque.  His noble
form is clothed in an expensive black suit.  It reeks of class and money =
and makes him appear as
a model stepping out from an Armani ad in GQ.  As desirable as he looks, =
which is darn near
irresistible, he is not my usual type.  That seems to be rumpled, =
long-haired young men in black
leather.  But, he is handsome enough, to say the least, and there is =
much to be said about older
men, many things to learn; many sensual delights to be experienced. =20

I finish my third drink, and peer forward for an even closer look.  He's =
speaking into the mike
again, his mouth hovering dangerously over the black-silver wire of the =
microphone; like a
mouth lingering so wantonly near an exposed neck.  From the distance of =
the bar, I concentrate
on a pair of lush, full lips.  Lips that were cupid's bow shaped, or bee =
stung, or whatever the
term that is used to describe these, and very soft.  Lips that were also =
very talented at pleasuring
a woman......or maybe even a man?  Talent like that comes with a =
multitude of experience.  Lips
that rained down kisses over every inch of an awaiting body.  Is it just =
me, or is it getting hot in
here?

I look back up at his face again, and are sucked into the deep whirlpool =
of his blue eyes, at least=20
I thought they were blue.  For an instant, I swear he is locking eyes =
with me and returning my
stare.  I can feel my skin become flushed and my heart skipping a beat =
as it thrums in my chest.=20
But, that was all my imagination?  Just my wild fantasies of a man =
burning just for me, right?  I
throw my drink back, needing even more courage than before.

*******************************

I wake up, somewhere in the back of the club, with a headache the size =
of Texas.  I think I am
lying on a couch, or something soft, my fuzzy brain tells me.  A cup is =
pressed into my hands; its
contents hot, probably coffee.  "Here, you might be needing....this," is =
spoken to me as I wrap
my sweaty palms around the steaming container.

Was it just me dreaming again, or was this the voice of the man behind =
the booth, the man
known only to others as the elusive Nightcrawler?  I raise my splitting =
head and gaze up at him
with bleary eyes.  Yes, it was him, and he was staring back at me with =
nothing but compassion.
At least I thought it was compassion, as my eyes have not adjusted fully =
to the change in my
surroundings.  Before I ask any more questions, I gulp down the coffee =
as quickly as I downed
my alcoholic beverages.

"What happened?  Where am I?"  I ask.  I turn around and notice that I =
am in a tastefully
decorated office, most likely, his private quarters.  I look and see all =
the proper accouterments:
sturdy mahogany desk, classic art prints, cushy leather sofa that I am =
so conveniently lying on.

"You passed out,"  he said simply.  "I brought you back to my office to =
sleep your intoxicated
state off.  Now, I couldn't have you just sitting there at the bar with =
your head against the
counter, like the rest of the drunks, could I?"

"You carried me back?!"  I ask, dumbfounded.  And angry at myself for =
not being in condition to
witness this little scene.  Oh, to have been awake to feel those strong =
hands scooping me up into
his arms; to bury my face in the folds of his impressive chest.  My =
pulse started racing at this
wonderful thought.

"Yes," he replied.  "And you were not heavy at all, to say the least."

"Good," I said.  "This means I'm not fat, right?"  Suddenly insecure =
with myself and feeling
every woman's greatest fear, her "Achilles heel," : her weight.

"Au Contraire, far from it.  You are absolutely exquisite," he =
proclaimed.

I felt the rush of blood flooding my face at this compliment.  I'd =
become too jaded, too used to
men who were compelled to greet a woman with such eloquent compliments =
such as, "Wow!=20
You look hot," (the harmless one) or "Nice knobs, babe!"  Real Romeos, =
these guys.  Never
before in my short life, have I encountered such a gentleman as this.  =
Such manners are
completely seductive in a man.  When he spoke these words, my insides =
positively melted, and
my legs turned to Jell-O, not that they hadn't already from all that =
vodka.

"I adore a woman who blushes," he complimented.  And he could keep on =
complimenting, as far
as I was concerned.  "Too few today do.  They either reject adoration =
completely, or are so
egotistical, they bellow,  but, I know!'"

"Yes, that's me, an old-fashioned girl!" lying through my ass, of =
course.

"Ah, but you are not too old-fashioned, I hope?"  He asked, as he cupped =
my chin in his palm,
pulling my face towards his gaze.  There was an eerie coolness to it; as =
if ice pulsed through his
veins instead of hot blood.  But, that's not so unusual, no?  Many =
people have cold hands, right?=20
Cold hands, warm heart?

"No, not too much," I breathed, completely caught up in his exquisite =
touch and entrapped by
the vibration of his velvety voice.  I bored into him, and fell into the =
depths of those wide blue
pools.  A blue so bright and rich, that they could not be imagined real. =
 But of course, anyone
can have blue eyes these days; they could always be the results of those =
disposable colored
contacts.  But, then I examined closer, seeing no telltale rim around =
the iris that is the revealer of
fakes.  He was definitely not wearing contacts; these were indeed, the =
real thing.

"What is your name?"  He asked, as he twined a loose tendril that =
escaped from my upswept
hairdo, around his finger.

"Ariana," I told him.  "What's yours?"  He seemed to delight in playing =
with my hair, many men
did.  It was thick and shiny and a color created by nature, not Miss =
Clairol.     =20

LaCroix.  Lucien LaCroix," he answered back, in James Bondesque =
smoothness, only a hundred
times sexier.  His fingers slipped down along my cheek and towards the =
hollow of my throat.=20
His middle finger lingered briefly against the pulsing artery, as if to =
feel the sensation of each
pump of blood.  As said fingers hit that sensitive spot, a small cry =
emanated from my mouth,
visibly shivering from his touch.  Now, if only he'd move that hand =
lower.

He drew me closer, so that I was now sitting in his lap.  As he drew me =
against him, our groins
touched, and I could feel the developing erection straining beneath his =
wool trousers.  This brief
brushing forced a soft moan from each of us, the effect of the movement =
on both of us startling
me.  Was I this desirable, or was this just an extremely special =
creature?  I'd like to think it was
a little bit of both, remembering my own reaction.

"Ariana, have you been hurt by love?"  LaCroix breathed into my ear.  =
The feel of his words
against my neck and ear alone was enough to rend me staggering and =
helpless.  That, combined
with the fact that his lips, those beautiful lips that would put Eros to =
shame, were oh, so
tantalizingly close to grazing my neck, left me absolutely paralyzed =
with lust.  If he keeps this
exquisite torture up, not being able to talk will be the least of my =
"worries."

"Yes!" I exclaim, in slightly hushed, yet forceful tones.  No one had =
hurt me as much as my ex-fianc=82.  The asshole who hand so cruelly =
dumped me to go elope with a stripper he met two
weeks beforehand.  Who told me, he supposedly wasn't ready for marriage. =
 The love of your
life leaving you for what you though was a cheap, quick thrill.  The =
naughtiness of getting
hitched on the sly in Vegas......that should have been me!  Some =
boyfriend!

"Then we are kindred spirits," LaCroix explained.  "I too was hurt by =
love.  Lost the one true
thing in my life because of the actions of a spiteful friend."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly interested in this tale and all thoughts of =
"the asshole" far, far away.

"It's not important," LaCroix stated.  "What is important, is that we =
are kindred spirits.  And
kindred spirits need each other."

He brushed his lips against mine, teasing them before reaching in for a =
kiss.  That millisecond
was the longest span of eternity, the wait before touchdown.  Finally, =
his mouth clamped down
on mine, and my world exploded.  Six months of self-imposed celibacy =
shattering at that instant.=20
I found myself forcing my tongue between his lips, filling up his mouth =
and running its tip along
his upper teeth.  Eventually his own magical tongue met mine, and they =
intertwined.  I wrapped
my arms around his neck and we were lost in an embrace, giving our all =
to the tongue play and
enjoying a wet, tonsil cleaning kiss.
Somewhere along the away in all that swirling action, I inadvertently =
scraped my tongue along
some of those teeth----the canines?  At this point, I was too lost unto =
the moment to decipher
which kind they were.  Either way, there was something strange about =
those teeth; they were
somehow sharper than normal.  My eyes flickered open briefly during the =
kiss, and I gazed
deeply into those magnificent blue eyes.  The deep blue seemed to have =
taken on a brilliant gold
cast: A haze that formed a sparkling gold rim inside the iris.  Almost =
as if they reflected an
unearthly desire.

Before I knew what hit me, LaCroix had broken the embrace and turned his =
attentions away
from my lips and onto my neck.  He savagely kissed it, the pressure of =
his lips against the firm
column of skin so intense, it was as if he was devouring me like a man =
that hadn't had a drop of
water to drink in a week, or a morsel of food in a month.  His mouth, =
licking, kissing, biting,
sucking, everywhere.  Anywhere that mouth wanted to go, it went, and I =
would not protest.

I sensed something sharp against my throat.  A slight sting reverberated =
in my mind.  What was
this strange, but pleasurable sensation?  Had he truly pierced my =
throat, like a vampire would?=20
There's no such thing as vampires, unfortunately, I reminded myself.  =
Though the very thought
he could instantly bring me to orgasm or kill me sent a surge of =
electricity through my body. No,
this wasn't a puncture, more like scraping, I finally registered.

I felt something trickle down my throat and roll down to the fold of my =
cleavage.  Something
warm and wet.  Was this his saliva........or my blood?  At this point, I =
could care less, as I
lingered in the sensation of his tongue gliding in a languorous path =
down my bodice, lapping up
the unknown liquid.  Waves of desire flooded my core, wanting him to =
take that glorious tongue
somewhere else, like my slick cunt, which was probably already wet with =
want of him.

Then, that tongue was at it again, working its way back up my neck, =
bringing its magic towards
my ear.  It teased the lobe, traced its way along the outer curve.  =
Inside I was screaming, a
tangled mass of jumbled nerves.  Outside, I was breathing raggedly.  =
Oh....god...yes,......more.=20
His momentary slave, exhibiting his own form of punishment on me.  But =
what exquisite
punishment it was.

His mouth moved its way towards that hard nubbin of flesh that sits next =
to the edge of my
cheekbone.  Kissing it, flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth =
against it, truly turning me
into Jell-O.  I was rocked back to my awares by the steely grip of pain =
again.  This was not the
gentle scraping of earlier, but much different; a searing heat.  It was =
as if he had actually bit my
eardrum!  Had he?

Once again, I felt that heavenly mouth caressing the pain away.  Of =
course, pain is not all that
bad....I rather do enjoy it.....when its done right.  I'm not a major =
S&M fiend, but I do love to be
tied up with silk scarves, or spanked lightly.  Even indulge in a little =
vampire fantasy.  As his
tongue plunged its way inside my ear, I imagined it was a pair of fangs =
penetrating the main
artery in my neck.  Oh lord, I never want to leave this room, never want =
to leave him.  Can this
moment go on forever?

The dizzying momentum lured us down against the couch.  The buttery soft =
leather felt like
heaven against my back's skin that was exposed by the wide keyhole =
opening.  But the delirious
motions of his mouth working on my bare bodice were infinitely superior =
to the feel of the
couch.  I moaned aloud at the pressure of his lips and tongue against =
me, this time, even more
audibly than before.

His tongue was at it once again, moving in a feathery circular motion =
over the creamy peaks of
my breasts.  I had rubbed perfumed lotion on them before dressing, in =
the hopes of making them
more enticing, and from the looks of him and his actions, it had =
definitely worked.  His mouth
found its way to my cleavage, the valley of my upper body, and when it =
reached it........oh baby.=20
His mouth at it so hard, I thought he was drilling for oil.  My whole =
body contracted and bucked
beneath him at his touch.

When LaCroix finally raised his head up, meeting his eyes with mine, I =
could have sworn his
were glowing gold.  Or maybe it was just me swooning.  My own eyes were =
probably crazed and
glowing themselves, not only from the manipulation of my upper body, but =
also because the
massive amounts of vodka had zapped all cognitive reasoning, rendering =
me to this completely
base creature, existing only to be thoroughly fucked by him.  "Do you =
want me, Ariana?" he
huskily growled.

"Oh yes," I snarled back roughly, as feral as a human can get without =
crossing the line into
beast; not sure if I had the willpower left to utter those words. =20

"Then it is your turn," he suggested, commanded almost.  "You may feast =
upon my flesh, as I
have done to yours."

Could it be?  Could I finally savor that gorgeously pale skin?  That =
silken flesh that was as
luminous as the winter snow?  Many would have flinched at that =
pallidness.  Too many of them
are caught up in that overrated bronzed god image: skin either created =
by roasting in the sun, or
by slapping on tan in a tube.  But not I.  How I longed to explore every =
inch of him.  Let them
have their Fabio's, their Topaz Men.  I have my LaCroix.

I sat up, eager at the task at hand.  My shaking hands fervently =
unbuttoned his black silk shirt.=20
Don't ask me when he took his jacket off, that must have been an =
eternity ago.  I slid the
material off his massive form; not fat, but well muscled-a gladiator's =
body.  I ran my hands up
and down his chest and torso, almost forming the shape of my =
astrological sign, my sign, Aries
along the way.  It was my method of saying he was mine only, at least =
for tonight.

Never before have I felt such glorious skin in my life.  So soft and =
smooth, it could not possibly
belong to a mortal man.  Men were rough and tumble.  Sexy, yes, but not =
as luxuriously elegant
as LaCroix.  But then, no one could be as perfect as he.

I pushed him back against the soft sofa, wanting now to taste him, as he =
tasted me.  I kissed his
chest up and down, paying special attention to his nipples, which =
stiffened against my lips.  I
suckled on them, like a babe against a mother's breast, only my =
intentions were sexually
motivated.  Biting and kissing and licking them, as he had done to my =
neck.  I could hear a deep
groan of satisfaction as I applied my own form of torture to him, lost =
in my ministrations and
possibly also turned on my the devious workings of my own mind.  I =
swirled my tongue in the
soft blond hair of his chest, thoroughly savoring the taste of him.  He =
tasted of the intoxicating
mixture of fresh spring water, spicy cologne and the unique scent of =
maleness.  If I were to eat
ice cream off his abdominals, it would surely spoil the experience.

I wanted to rip off all my clothes and experience the full skin to skin =
contact of my body atop
his.  To yank down his pants and impale myself on his rock hard cock.  =
To wrap my legs around
the small of his back and ride him like some bucking bronco; controlling =
it for a little while,
then unleashing the wild beast within all men and letting him fuck me =
with abandon.

As I tried to unzip my dress, the zipper got stuck along the way.  Was =
this due to my
anxiousness, or just a defective fastener?  Suddenly, I felt a hand that =
was not mine, pressed
against it, guiding the stubborn zipper all the way down.  He slid the =
dress off my body, letting it
fall to the floor with my shoes and my inhibitions, which had melted =
away with the first touch of
his fingers against my cheek, so very long ago.

With one swift motion, my bra was effortlessly unhooked.  It too was =
tossed aside, discarded
with all the other garments.  How remarkable he was.  Too many men =
couldn't unfasten a bra to
save their worthless lives.  LaCroix climbed behind me and rained gentle =
kisses up and down my
back.  The sensation was so delightful, like a pulsing spray against my =
skin.  I felt his tongue
searching again, sliding its way down my spine, along the groove in the =
small of my back, right
above my buttocks.

He couldn't possibly be an ordinary man.  No real man would desire to =
bring me to such
ecstasies, such passions.  Too often, they thought of their own =
pleasure.  To give you a quick
kiss, a few gropes, a few thrusts, then fall asleep, sooooo exhausted.  =
I could only imagine what
lay next.

Then he was on top of me, working the way down my front with kisses and =
licks and even nips
of his teeth.  If my flesh was surfaced with red marks, so be it.  I =
found him down at my thighs,
pulling down my stockings with his mouth.  By freak of nature, they were =
removed without
breaking, not a snag or a hole.  His wandering hands inched their way up =
my leg, stopping only
to massage my thighs.  His touches began with gentle tracings, and =
deepened to a massaging
kneading.

Those strong hands so close to my pleasure center was excruciating.  I =
wanted him to take me,
hard.  Either by tongue, fingers, or cock.  At this point, I didn't care =
which mode of penetration.=20
But, he insisted on "torturing" me further.  One hand slipped under my =
lace bikini panties,
stroking my pubic mound.  It rubbed me up and down, kneading feather =
light against my labia,
then boldly stroking my clit.  The wash of pleasure so strong, I was =
drowning in the tide.  I
finally vocalized my demands, "Take me........please."

"Young people today are so impatient," he mocked, but his own voice was =
tinged with
desperation.  "Just lie back, and enjoy it."

As I bent my knees, LaCroix spread my legs apart, once again, stroking =
my hot, wet cunt.  His
expert fingers thumping against my clit in precise rhythm.  I felt a =
finger enter me, then a
second.  I contracted my muscles, tightening my slick sheath against =
those magic digits.  The tips
of his fingers found my g-spot, playing with the treasure, bringing me =
to exquisite heights.  The
fingers were replaced by his tongue. I came again....and again.....and =
again.

When I thought it was all over, I felt his body on top of me, ready to =
mount.  I wanted to be
released by his fingers, tongue or cock, now I learned I would be so =
fortunate as to receive all
three!  I welcomed his weight on me and rested my legs on his shoulders. =
 Normally, I like to be
on top, be in control, but this time I wanted to be submissive.  To be =
enveloped in this man and
be totally possessed.

I screamed wildly at the initial penetration of his cock into the =
opening of my vagina.  Not
because it was painful, but because it felt so damn good!  My first time =
was long ago, but this
experience with LaCroix put all my past exploits to shame.  He pulled =
out of me and pushed in
again, Shallow...deep....shallow......deep.  Repeating the process again =
and again
Quick....slow...quick...slow.....The variation of speeds and depths =
bringing me close to coming
again.

As he dived back in for another deep penetration, I squeezed my vaginal =
walls, making his fit
inside me tighter and taking his cock in even deeper; wanting to hold =
him in me forever.  I
swooped my mouth on his, diving in for another soul kiss......feeling =
those strange teeth against
my tongue again.

When I looked up at his face for the first time in eons, I was greeted =
by the sight of blazing red
eyes and distended fangs.  I now realized that that was blood cascading =
down my throat and
those were fangs teasing my neck earlier.  So there really are such =
things as vampires, and one
was fucking me right now!  My pulse pounded like a jackhammer at my =
sudden discovery, I'm
sure he heard it too.  If I was the squeamish type, I would have =
screamed for help, not that I
would get any.  Not that I would scream like that.  Not when I wanted =
this so badly, this
impossible, dark dream of mine come true, this culmination of sex with a =
vampire.

"Give yourself to me, Ariana," LaCroix growled. His voice grown =
animalistic with bloodlust, but
still maintaining shreds of a human resonance.

"Take it all," I begged of him.  "Drink all of me."

I felt the simultaneous reaction as he pumped inside me and sank his =
fangs into my neck.  Felt
the interaction of his thrusting and the loud, wet crunch of his teeth =
tearing into sweaty flesh.=20
Sweet, sweet pain mixed with desire; complete and utter rapture.  My =
essence draining out of me
and flowing into his hungry body.  I am sure he could taste all my =
memories, thoughts and
feelings.  I could see bits and pieces of his past lives through some =
kind of psychic backwash as
he fed off of me.  See him killing with abandon, fucking with abandon, =
oh it was so intense....
All my hopes dreams and aspirations no longer mattered.  All that =
mattered, was that I was here,
in this room, being pleasured to death.  I was his, his alone, but soon =
not possessed by anyone at
all; falling into oblivion...........dying?

Suddenly, LaCroix slowly slid his cock out of me and pulled his fangs =
out of my throat.  I was
alive!  Panting and drowsy.........but alive.  He must have only taken a =
pint or two, or whatever
amount is satisfying to the vampire and not life threatening to the =
mortal.  All I wanted to do
now, was sleep, but he was boring into me with those hypnotic blue eyes. =
 Forcing his will over
mine.

//All we did was make love//beat//Nothing Else//You will be returned =
home//beat//Never to
return to the Raven with memories of vampires//beat//or our =
encounter//..........

Noooo!  My brain screamed.  I have to remember this........I MUST!

************************************

I rolled out of bed and fell on the floor, my faculties still stuck in =
last week.  Slowly standing up,
I balanced myself on two feet, still woozy.  I glanced with bleary eyes =
at the digital clock
flashing on my VCR: it was 7 pm.  Shit!  I majorly overslept again!

I walked over to the full length mirror that was the focal point of my =
bedroom.  I was quite
alarmed to see that I was wearing my burgundy satin sleep shirt, but my =
makeup remained,
caked on and smeared, leaving my face a total wreck.  Wait a =
minute..........I don't remember
coming home!  And I certainly don't remember getting undressed.

I opened my bleary eyes wider and saw the large bluish bruises on my =
neck and throat.  At first,
all I though was, "what nice sized hickeys!"  Then I panicked: What the =
hell did I do last night!?
Who the hell gave these to me!?

I touched the tender spots, and the memories came rushing back.  An =
evening at the Raven.  An
incredibly sexy voice.  Intense blue eyes.  Lush, full lips.  Being made =
love to, like I had never
been made love to before.  An attentive vampire that showed me true =
passion.  So, it wasn't a
dream after all...........

THE END

See, sometimes they DO remember.
PS How many want a sequel?

 
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