It was a cold, dark and gloomy night in the heart of London, England. The clock tower chimed - 12am. Whilst everyone else were asleep in their homes, She Scarey was out searching the streets like a starving vulture to catch her prey.
Scarey's throat remained dry. No blood to drink for two weeks. The constant thirst drove Scarey insane; it made her livid to the core.
Scarey leant against the wall in her short, figure-hugging black dress, leather jacket and black strappy heels, in an effort to please. She had her long, mousy hair styled and curled to perfection, and her makeup worked just right to send off an alluring aura.
Scarey was a little bit older than her human peers, but she never let her age stop her from trying to lure the guys they were going for. She chuckled as she watched a girl get rejected by a guy down the street, before she broke down in tears.
Goodness, get a grip, girl!
Scarey sensed someone staring at her. She stared at the guy back, but all he did was drop his jaw and run for his life.
Scarey sighed. She felt so out of place. Since childhood, her parents and grandparents kept her guarded from the other children. Still, she liked to stay inside, unless she had to feed. Her daily routine was straight-forward:, wake up, go to work, go home, go hunting, sleep. Scarey's life was strictly run by this routine, and that was how she liked it.
The only people to ever know she was a vampire were those who died from blood loss or ran away as far from her as possible. As well as her only friend, John Williams...
Also known as his code name, Red Youth, amongst his and Scarey's kind. The real name of She Scarey was Beatrice Carey. The wordplay with her last name was how she was recognised by other vampires. To everyone else, she was just Beatrice.
Beatrice took a break from blood hunting. She stopped in front of a pub, and decided to call up John for advice. Born in 1593, John was only a little bit younger than her, Beatrice being born in 1590, and they had been best friends since they were kids. When it came to their needs, he was there to help her, and so was she.
Beatrice unlocked her phone and looked though her contact list, until she found John's number. Once she found it, she pressed 'call' and waited for him to answer.
Soon, the dial tone stopped, and John's voice was heard.
"She Scarey?" He asked, checking that it was Beatrice.
"Yes, Red Youth." Beatrice confirmed.
"Oh, Bea, I haven't seen you in ages!" John exclaimed.
"I know!" Beatrice agreed. She cleared her throat, signalling seriousness, "John, I need help with finding more blood I've been starving for nearly two weeks, and no men want me."
Beatrice heard her friend hum in deep thought. John replied.
"Damn, girl, that is tough; you know, you're really limiting yourself by only hunting for guys, though."
Beatrice got confused.
What does he mean 'limiting' myself by 'only hunting for guys'? I mean, it's not like I'm gonna hunt other women, I don't want anyone to think I'm a homosexual. Plus, there's far less homosexual women than straight or bisexual men from London's population - how am I supposed to find a homosexual woman that doesn't act masculine?
"I know what you're trying to do, but it's not working." Beatrice retorted, with a sigh, "I'm not a...lesbian."
"Who says you have to love a girl to get her blood?" John reminded her.
Well, he does have a point.
Beatrice weighed the pros and cons in her head. She analysed the situation to the best of her ability, and pictured all the possible outcomes. To her, this was genius. She was hugely enlarging her victim pool this way. With both men and women's blood to drink, she would never go to sleep thirsty ever again.
Actually...that sounds great.
"So, are you saying that I don't have to love another girl to get her blood?" Beatrice asked.
"Of course!" John replied, "I've gotten blood from other guys before, and I didn't even have to kiss 'em."
"So I don't have to do anything intimate with a girl, as long as I lure her?"
"Exactly!"
That was when it dawned on Beatrice - she didn't have a clue about picking up girls, nor did she know where to find them. It wasn't as if she could just walk into a pub, grab a girl by the hand and expect her to be attracted to her; she had to go to a place where only lesbians hung out.
Beatrice remained unsure, "But I don't know how to hit on a girl."
"Where are you?"
"The Black Hog."
"I'll be straight there."
.......
Beatrice waited for ten minutes until John arrived. He was out of his vampire attire, and wearing a white shirt, a red bow tie, black trousers and black dress shoes. On his head was his blood-red larger-than-life bowler hat that always got people's attention. It was his trademark at this point.
John took Beatrice's hand as a mean of comfort. He began to lead her away from the pub.
Beatrice became confused. She looked to John for an explanation.
"Oh, right...I haven't told you yet." He realised, clearing his throat, as they walked down the London streets, "Bea...I'm taking you to a gay bar."
Beatrice let go of him with disgust, "Uh no way! I said I'm not a homosexual! What would my dad and granddad think?!"
John grabbed her and pulled her back, "Well, it's the only way you're gonna get girls to feed off of!"
"I don't care! I would rather starve for an entire month!" Beatrice declared, "I'm not going into a gay club even if you threaten to kill me."
At this point, the two had already arrived at the gay club. It was a surprisingly boring-looking building, which blended in with the rest down the road. Beatrice had no idea that this was where all the gay people hung out in London. John greeted the bouncer, and ushered her in before she could leave.
As the two entered the disco-room, Beatrice couldn't believe her eyes. Strobe lights flashed before her, and the biggest hits of the week pounded into her eardrums. She had just opened up a whole other world. She slipped on her sunglasses.
John grinned in achievement, as he watched her prance onto the dance floor as soon as her favourite song came on. He couldn't stop laughing at her doing ballroom moves on the dance floor.
Ten minutes of intense jamming later, Beatrice felt someone nudge her. She quickly turned, and was about to tell them to back off, but was stopped by a beautiful woman gracing her presence.
It were as if she had frozen in time, as she scanned the woman's entire body - up from her voluminous, brunette locks that reached just below her pert bust, all the way down to her knee-high, black, lace up boots, paired with a mid-thigh length, long sleeved black, sparkly dress with accentuated shoulder pads.
Beatrice hadn't a clue what to say. She was going to hide behind John, but when she looked behind her, she saw that he'd vanished.
"Great." Beatrice cursed under her breath.
"What's wrong?" The woman questioned with concern.
Beatrice jolted with a start, turning back to face the younger woman. She massaged the back of her neck with her hand and her dark eyes averted to the floor.
"Oh...nothing is wrong...I'm fine." Beatrice assured, her voice shook with nerves.
"You sure? You look a bit jumpy." The woman checked, resting her hand on Beatrice's shoulder, "How's about we go over to the bar, and I'll buy us both a drink."
The woman, named Cheryl, smiled, caressing Beatrice's hand in hers. Beatrice expected to feel uncomfortable, but actually...Cheryl's hand was soft and warm against her own. It was kinda nice.
Cheryl didn't receive an answer. She took the initiative and began walking Beatrice over to the bar, where an extravagant looking bartender was serving drinks left, right and centre. Beatrice smiled, her mouth watering.
I guess I'll just get myself a little drunk, so I don't have to ever remember this night.
Both women sat down, perched on neighbouring bar-stools. Cheryl got out her purse, as the bartender took notice of the women before him.
"Oh, hi, ladies!" He greeted, "And what would you lovebirds like to drink tonight?"
Lovebirds?
John Williams, I am going to kill you when we get home, just you wait.
Cheryl grinned, "hmm...I'll have some champagne, why not?"
"And how about you, ma'am?" The bartender asked Beatrice.
She sighed with contempt.
"I'll take champagne as well, please." She mumbled.
Beatrice felt so awkward. She had no experience flirting with girls, and it was really making her feel uneasy. She wasn't like other vampires; she was very shy when she first met someone, and sometimes she did feel bad for her victims for using them like she did but the nervousness further convinced humans to believe she was being genuine with them.
Once the two got their drinks, Beatrice got out her purse and forked out a twenty pound note before Cheryl could even unzip her clutch, "Here you go, darling."
"Thanks." The bartender replied, before sorting out some change. He gave her a fiver and three pound coins in return, "Here's your change."
"Thank you."
Cheryl looked flattered, "You didn't have to do that for us."
"Oh, I don't mind." Beatrice assured her, "I make quite a lot of cash anyway."
"Really? What do you do, like?" Cheryl asked, intrigued.
"I'm a bank accountant." Beatrice answered.
"Wow, you must be pretty intelligent!"
"Well, thank you." Beatrice smiled, "I work hard."
Beatrice began to feel weird inside, as she and Cheryl kept talking. She felt her cheeks redden, for some reason, which she never experienced with guys before. She thought love was a superficial thing that businesses all over the country use to profit from once a year. Not once had Beatrice ever looked at a guy and thought, 'I fancy him', or, 'I love him'.
"So, what do you do?" Beatrice asked Cheryl, as she couldn't really tell.
"Oh, I waitress at the 'Costa' up the road from here." Cheryl answered.
"Oh, I bet you get a lot of tips!" Beatrice remarked, with a smirk.
Heavens, Beatrice, what are you doing? You're supposed to be luring her for food, not lead her on!
Beatrice took another sip of her champagne, as she tried to suppress her feelings, and focus on convincing her to like her.
"Aww, you're sweet!" Cheryl blushed, "I still don't know your name yet."
"Oh, that's not important." Beatrice dismissed. She never told any of her victims her real name. She just felt that it was pointless since she was never going to see Cheryl again...
Or so she thought.
"Well...I'm Cheryl, anyway." Cheryl introduced herself, flashing her pearly whites at the striking beauty before her.
Cheryl had never seen anyone as stunning in her entire life. She just hoped that Beatrice liked girls too. She had been struggling as well, although she only wanted a girl who would make her happy and would be with her for the rest of her life. Cheryl always fantasised of a fairytale relationship with the kindest, most beautiful girl in the world, and it was something she always wanted.
On the other hand, Beatrice was simple. She wanted Cheryl's blood, and that was all. As far as she was concerned, Beatrice needed this girl to survive. There was no way in her mind she was going to end up like her mother and grandmother.
The only thing that has been constant throughout Beatrice's life was her everlasting thirst for satisfaction. Beatrice wanted to live forever, so she could spend as much time with her family as possible and the only way she could do so was to take as many people's blood as she could.
Three weeks without blood, and Beatrice would bubble over the line of sanity. She suffered greatly.
"Nice to meet you, Cheryl." Beatrice replied politely. She didn't recognise her accent very well, which hit her with curiosity, "Say - where are you from?"
"Oh, I'm from Newcastle; it's the accent, isn't it?" Cheryl guessed.
Beatrice nodded.
"You could say that."
"I've not seen you around here either; where are you from?" Cheryl asked.
"I was born and raised here." Beatrice explained, "My mother is White and my father is Black - both British."
"That's so fascinating...you certainly got good genes from both your parents; I mean, your skin is so clear." Cheryl said.
"Thank you...my mother was always beautiful." Beatrice replied, mumbling the last part to herself, in hopes Cheryl wouldn't hear.
The two continued talking for the next half-hour. Beatrice was surprised at how much the girls had in common, but how different their backgrounds were; Cheryl went to the local school up the road from her house, bunking off and acting the class clown, while Beatrice was homeschooled by her father, in the comfort of her own three-storey home.
Beatrice was beginning to enjoy herself for the first time in a while. It were as if she had been running in circles until she finally escaped the labyrinth. It were as if she'd bumped into Cheryl on the way to freedom.
Beatrice felt Cheryl squeeze her hand. Cheryl edged ever so closer to her. Beatrice gulped. As she took note of the brunette's breathtaking beauty, her blood began to boil. She felt a familiar tingle inside her mouth, as her fangs struggled to rip through her gums. Beatrice kept her lips shut, as she began to feel her skin turn pale.
After a while, Beatrice couldn't take it anymore. She pulled Cheryl outside, and into a dark alley. Cheryl's breath hitched with fear, as her fangs pierced through her gums and became visible to the shivering brunette. Cheryl hadn't a clue what was going on, but that wasn't going to stop Beatrice - no, not at all.
Cheryl tried to scream for help, but no sound came from her mouth. She was silenced by Beatrice's ice, cold hand, which sent her chills up her spine. Beatrice felt the young brunette tremble under her killer grip. She felt a pang of guilt as she looked into Cheryl's soft, brown eyes full of sorrow.
Beatrice stayed still for a while, until she heard Cheryl's voice against her hand. She removed her hand from Cheryl's lips, but still didn't let go.
"P-Please...please d-don't hurt me..." Cheryl pleaded, her voice shrill, "P-Please...I'm beggin' ya."
In her head, Beatrice had conflicting thoughts.
Come on, Beatrice, what are you doing?! Just get it over with, for the love of God!, her inner thirst snarled, whilst the small shred of empathy invaded her.
Let her go, Beatrice, she doesn't deserve this.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'm starving! I need her blood inside of me RIGHT NOW!
Beatrice beared her teeth, and her fangs dug right into Cheryl's skin. Cheryl attempted to scream once more, but it was no use. When Beatrice was thirsty, there was no way of stopping her.
Cheryl looked down at Beatrice's voluptuous figure. Damn, she thought.
Without realising it, Cheryl began feeling Beatrice up. Her hand slowly slid down Beatrice's hourglass frame. It was when she began fondling her large breasts that Beatrice took notice. She withdrew herself from her neck, as she let out a quiet moan. Beatrice didn't stop to question what Cheryl was doing; she liked it nonetheless.
Beatrice's phone began ringing in the pocket of her leather jacket. She unlocked it to see who was calling. It was none other than John. She immediately answered.
"Red Y-John, where in God's name have you been?!" Beatrice yelled. She remembered that Cheryl was right next to her and corrected herself before she noticed.
"Oh, I've been at the hottest party in town! It just finished, actually, so I decided to check up on you." John told her, "What's with you?"
"Oh, I don't know, it's almost as if you abandoned me at a f***ing gay club of all places." Beatrice said sarcastically, "You know, because you would never do that."
"Okay, I'm sorry, Bea; I was only trying to help." John said, "Anyway, did you find anyone yet?"
"Uh...it's funny you say that..." Beatrice mumbled, meeting Cheryl's gaze.
"What do you mean?" John asked.
"Well-um..."
"Who's that?" Cheryl mouthed to Beatrice.
"Just a friend of mine." Beatrice whispered. She tried to be quiet about it, but John overhead her.
"Uh, Bea? Are you with someone?" John questioned his best friend.
"Yes..." Beatrice saw the wanting look in Cheryl's eyes. She thought that it was best she take her back to her place to finish off what she had started, "In fact, I need to ask you a quick favour..."
Five minutes later, a snazzy, black car pulled up a block away from the gay club. John emerged, sunglasses over his eyes for anonymity. Beatrice and Cheryl were waiting by a lamppost, to make it easier for him to see them. Beatrice and John exchanged smiles, before Cheryl was led into the backseat of John's car. Beatrice jumped in next to her, buckling her seatbelt, as John drive down the high-end part of London.
Truth to be told, Beatrice and John came from rich families. That was how they both could afford such luxurious clothes to disguise their true forms. Beatrice's accountancy job was actually with her grandfather's bank, Terrace House Banking, also known as THB. It has been the family business for many centuries, earning a considerable amount of cash every year. THB was on par with 'Barclay's', 'Natwest', 'Lloyd's' and 'Santander', but this was the only bank that all fellow vampires trusted.
Cheryl, however, grew up on a council estate with four other siblings, and income wasn't the most ideal for such a big family. Beatrice passed pretty much all of her exams with flying colours, while Cheryl only just managed to get a C in Maths & English.
Their upbringings couldn't have deviated more, but that was what intrigued Beatrice. She got the impression that Cheryl came from a rough area from the way she spoke so quietly and how she'd tense at the smallest of things. Cheryl was as innocent as a twenty-two year old could get. Beatrice got bored easily, so she didn't like scouting for rich people like herself to prey on, just so she could hear them go on and on about gardening, caviar and recent home extensions.
Beatrice wanted to talk to someone who was at least interesting. This was the only time she ever gone out of the house, and wanted to have a good time as well.
When they arrived at Beatrice's house, Beatrice thanked John, and she and Cheryl got out of the car. Beatrice and John exchanged knowing winks, before he drove off. Beatrice was alone. Inside, she was raging. She needed so much to have her fix, but for some reason, she just stood there.
Cheryl observed her surroundings. She was amazed at how Beatrice could afford to live in such luxury. Compared to her family home, in Newcastle, this place was a glimmering gold mine. Cheryl could just make out a huge house, as two metal gates guarded the place.
"Wow." Cheryl mouthed in awe.
Beatrice however, still had her conflicts battle for the win.
Hey, Beatrice! What on earth are you doing now?! You're starving, remember?! Get inside and suck her blood before she runs away!
No, Beatrice! Leave the girl alone! Just let her spend one night with you-
What? Because you think I'm a homosexual?! You think I'm gay?! The only thing that's gay is love! I mean, how could people fall for something so inexplicably vile?!
Beatrice took Cheryl's hand. She opened the gates with voice activation, and dragged Cheryl inside. She closed the gates shut behind her. Cheryl felt as if ice began forming inside of her body, as the weather grew colder. The breeze smacked across both girls, as Beatrice put in her secret code at the front door. Once granted entry, she and Cheryl were inside.
The fire was crackling in the living room, and the soft carpets warmed up Cheryl and Beatrice's feet instantly. Beatrice gestured her to take her shoes off and leave them by the door. She then walked Cheryl into the living room, where her grandfather, Walter Carey, sat back in his favourite armchair. He wore a thick, black robe with a blood red rose motif on the left side, and blood red lining each hem. A pair of black slippers were on his feet also.
Walter looked up from his chair, and saw his granddaughter enter the room.
"Beatrice! My little devil!" Walter cheered, holding his arms out wide.
"Granddad!"
Beatrice jumped into her grandfather's arms like a little kid. Walter ruffled Beatrice's full head of curls, as they briefly embraced.
Walter then took notice of Cheryl.
"Who's this, darling?" He asked.
"Oh, that's Cheryl, Granddad; she's staying the night in my room." Beatrice informed, giving him a knowing look.
"Oh! Alright! But don't make a racket like you always do - your father is asleep." Walter reminded her.
"Yes, Granddad, we won't." Beatrice assured, rolling her eyes.
"You still act like you were under one-"
"Granddad." Beatrice hissed, gesturing at Cheryl's presence.
"Well...anyway, have fun, girls!" Walter grinned.
The two girls waved 'goodnight' at Walter. Beatrice picked Cheryl up bridal style and carried her upstairs, not wanting to wait a moment longer. Once they got to Beatrice's bedroom, she carried her in and dumped her onto her kingsize bed. Beatrice shut the door and locked it, placing the key back on top of the chest of drawers.
"So your name's Beatrice?" Cheryl asked her, speaking for the first time in a while.
Beatrice sighed, but nodded.
"And you still live with your family?" Cheryl asked.
Beatrice nodded again.
"How old are you, Beatrice?"
"27." Mariah muttered, "What about it?"
"Oh...Nothing..." Cheryl mumbled.
"Good." Beatrice said, as she hung up her jacket on the hook of her door. She began tying her hair up, "Granddad is quite ill right now, and my Nan and my Mother died a long time ago, so I've been staying here with him and my Father to keep them company, and they run the bank I work at; it's the family business."
Whilst the rest was true, Walter wasn't ill at all. He was just mourning the loss of his wife and daughter, and became more reclusive over the past ten years. The only time he goes out is to work. At 1,113 years old, Walter was glowing with health. He got his daily blood intake by scamming female users of his bank into coming into the house for added interest.
"Oh...sorry-" Cheryl started.
"It's fine." Beatrice cut her off, as she joined Cheryl on the bed, "This house is big anyway, so I might as well take advantage of it."
"Now." She said, "That dress is gonna have to come off."
Cheryl looked up at her master. She began to get aroused by her long, toned legs, her wide hips and her cleavage, as Beatrice's dress pressed her round, D-cup breasts together. Beatrice really had the looks on her side - part of being a vampire was to look desirable to the opposite sex, in order to trick them into a one night stand.
And by one night stand, that meant Beatrice spending the night fulfilling her thirst. There had been times where she did have sexual encounters with men, in order to keep them under her hold. She never admitted it to herself, but Beatrice hated it each and every time. She hated sex; all it was to her was an excuse to further sexualise women and the men never took her feelings into account either.
Beatrice never thought of the pregnancy aspect of sex; her family were strict about her never having children with a human. In fact, if she didn't only see John as a best friend, they would have gotten her to bear children with him ages ago. John was the perfect candidate, but children never interested Beatrice in the slightest. She was an only child herself, and it felt weird for her to purposefully give herself extra mouths to feed.
Cheryl stood up, trying to reach the zip at the back of her dress. Beatrice took the initiative and unzipped Cheryl's dress for her. The material slipped from her shoulders, and pooled around her feet. Cheryl kicked the dress off to the side, leaving her in a black lace lingerie set. Beatrice smirked, licking her lips, "That's better."
Beatrice's mouth continued to water at the sight of Cheryl's washboard abs, and the way her pert breasts looked in the lace number. Beatrice's eyes scanned down further. She lightly traced her fingers over the rose garter tattoo across Cheryl's right thigh. Cheryl's panties got wetter, as she felt Beatrice caress her body.
Is this what she always does to lure people?, she wondered.
But before she could think about it, Cheryl's questions were soon answered. Beatrice's fangs tore into Cheryl's skin again, as Cheryl whimpered in pain. She felt Beatrice suck hard on Cheryl's neck, and the warmth from within her began to fade.
Beatrice's hands roamed all over her female victim. She really didn't realise that she was doing this, or the fact that Cheryl was getting pretty turned on by it all. Cheryl's temperature re-arose despite Beatrice drinking her hot blood without mercy. Beatrice's hand slid over Cheryl's womanhood, and she grasped it gently. Cheryl's breath hitched again.
"Beatrice."
Beatrice kept sucking.
Cheryl said her name again, this time louder.
"Beatrice."
Beatrice stopped. She withdrew from her neck, to find her hand over Cheryl's panties. She felt herself redden with embarrassment, as she swiftly removed her hand and used it to wipe her mouth. She observed Cheryl laying beneath her, the open wound on her neck making her look more appetising to Beatrice.
Suddenly, she ran off into her ensuite, leaving Cheryl to lay there in shock of what had just happened.
Beatrice rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, washed her hands and wiped off her makeup. She was on the fence about taking out her brown colour contacts.
What if I scare Cheryl off?
Beatrice's eyes widened, Waiiit! Why the hell do I care? It's not like I got feelings for the girl...
Beatrice took out her contacts anyway, since she didn't like to sleep with them in. Behind the contacts revealed a pair of crimson eyes that were extremely sensitive to bright light. Her contacts did provide some protection - as well as always carrying a pair of sunglasses - but Beatrice had to squint so she didn't blind herself.
Beatrice kept her hair up in a loose ponytail, two strands of curls falling by her cheeks. In her natural state, Beatrice looked more true to her vampire self. Her skin also went a couple shades lighter in the dark, which illuminated her when scouting throughout the night. Still in her dress, she made sure to check that her breasts weren't going to come out and that her bra wasn't on too tight.
Once she was finished getting herself ready, Beatrice grabbed a big plaster from the cabinet and returned to the bedroom. She carefully stuck it onto Cheryl's neck, ensuring that she have any excess bleeding.
"Well, thank you, babe." Cheryl smiled.
"Did you just call me 'babe'?" Beatrice asked.
"Yeah, I always do that with me friends." Cheryl informed, "Sorry, if it makes ya uncomfortable or-"
"No, it's just...I...don't laugh at me...but I've never had a boyfriend before." Beatrice confessed, looking away.
"Aww, me neither, Beatrice!" Cheryl grinned.
Beatrice met Cheryl's gaze again.
"What? Really?" She asked.
"Uh...you know I'm a lesbian, right?" Cheryl reminded her.
"Oh yeah...sorry." Beatrice said.
"It's okay, babe; I know I hardly look the part." Cheryl chuckled.
"Well you look quite stunning." Beatrice slipped out. She put a hand over her mouth, to stop herself from speaking.
For goodness sake, Beatrice, what's gotten into you?!
"Oh, stop it!" Cheryl blushed again. She looked deep into Beatrice's eyes, "Beatrice? Can I ask ya something?"
Beatrice nodded.
"Sure; what is it?"
Cheryl took a deep breath before asking the question.
"Are you a vampire?"
Beatrice looked down.
"I thought that was obvious." She muttered.
"So why haven't you killed me yet?" Cheryl asked.
"Well..." Beatrice trailed off.
That's actually a good question.
Beatrice gulped. She didn't know what to say. She fiddled with her hands, as she hunted for an answer. Her thoughts were racing, and her heart thumped hard in her chest. She got nothing, until she looked at Cheryl once again.
Wow...her eyes...her hair...her dimples...her lips...
and those lovely breasts.
"Who in their right mind would kill such a beautiful woman like you?" Beatrice flirted.
"You've made your point." Cheryl winked, looking her up and down with lustful eyes, "Why don't you come and make us feel beautiful?"
Beatric stood still.
Cheryl stood up, leaned close to her, held her waist, and kissed her. To her surprise, Beatrice didn't hesitate to reciprocate Cheryl's actions. She'd never kissed anyone and loved it so much. During intimate encounters, Beatrice felt quite timid and awfully uncomfortable, but this time she felt excited.
Both girls pulled away.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend, babe?" Cheryl asked.
Beatrice shook her head.
"I've had no relationship whatsoever." Beatrice revealed.
Cheryl's jaw dropped to the floor.
"You're jokin'?"
"Nope."
For the first time ever, Beatrice was embarrassed about her lack of a love life. She never really got asked about it.
Silence filled the room for a short while, before Cheryl broke it.
"How old are you?" She asked,
"27."
"How old are you really?"
Beatrice sighed.
"Why does it matter? I'm 427, okay?"
"I was just wondering since I think you vampires live a long time."
Cheryl reached to the back of Beatrice's dress, and she zipped it down. She tossed it to the side. Beatrice was left wearing a black strapless bra and black panties. She had never been undressed by a girl before - everything about this was a whole new experience for her.
Cheryl kissed her again.
"Have you had sex before?"
Beatrice nodded.
"A fair amount."
"Well...why don't you show me what you can do with those lips of yours?" Cheryl proposed, pulling Beatrice closer to her. She reached down and held her hand in hers, whilst twirling her curls around her fingers, "I know you want me, Beatrice."
Beatrice looked down at their hands. Their fingers were intertwined with one another, with a sense of security and sincerity that made her feel at ease. She then looked back up into Cheryl's eyes.
"Y-You do?" Beatrice stuttered, her nerves scuttling around like a frantic spider were trapped inside her throat. The growing need inside of her was becoming too much for the proud denouncer of love to bear. She couldn't stop admiring Cheryl's body, and she encountered thoughts that never crossed her mind before.
Beatrice Carey was hooked.
Cheryl smirked.
"'Course I do, babe." Cheryl confirmed. She reached her free hand down her back, until she reached Beatrice's arse. She squeezed, whilst untangling her other hand and fondling her left breast. Beatrice moaned again. Cheryl cackled, "See? Ya can't resist us!"
Beatrice had enough of Cheryl's teasing. She cupped her face in her hands, as she kissed Cheryl slow and passionate. She ran her fingers through the brunette's soft tresses, whilst Cheryl held onto Beatrice's waist, grabbing her arse every now and again. Cheryl licked across Beatrice's bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss further. Beatrice opened her mouth slightly so Cheryl's tongue could enter.
Both girls stood there making out for what seemed like an eternity. Beatrice then picked Cheryl up and laid her back down on the bed. Cheryl had never laid on anything this soft before. Beatrice felt a tingling sensation ripple throughout her; that was something that she never ever felt before.
Either way, it made her feel even more excited.
Beatrice leapt on-top of Cheryl, and they resumed their make-out session. She felt a bit awkward moving any further, since she never had sex with a girl prior to this. She had no idea what sort of things other women would like, so she kept kissing Cheryl.
After awhile, Cheryl noticed Beatrice's hesitance, and stopped her.
"What's wrong, babe?" Cheryl questioned.
Beatrice got up from the bed, looking away from her.
"I'm sorry, Cheryl...I really am, it's just...I don't know what sort of things you...girls like." She admitted. She caught sight of the mirror by her vanity, "And...Oh, you must think that I'm a monster!"
Beatrice didn't know where all this sudden insecurity came from. Her hands concealed her face, and she locked herself in her en-suite. Tears trickled down her cheeks - but they weren't tears made of water and salt...
They were tears of ice-cold blood, ridden with shame and guilt.
Cheryl threw her fists on the door. Her knuckles soon started to bleed.
Both Thomas and Walter Carey burst in the bedroom to find the ensuite door left with ribbons of blood down from where Cheryl's fists were. Cheryl turned to see them with eyes of horror. Beatrice's sobs pierced through, causing Thomas and Walter's eyes to widen.
"Is that...Beatrice?!" Walter gasped.
Thomas pushed past Cheryl in desperation.
"Get out of the way!" Thomas bared his fangs and tore into the door, creating a massive hole for them to see, "Beatrice!"
Walter rose an eyebrow at Cheryl.
"How did you make her cry?!"
"I didn't mean to upset her, sir, I promise, you've got to believe me!" Cheryl pleaded, "We were just making out and...it just happened!"
"You're a homosexual?!" Walter yelled.
"Course I am, man! I wouldn't kiss her for no reason would I?!"
"Pipe down in there!" Thomas bellowed, "Oh god...who are you, anyway?"
"I'm Cheryl-"
"Well, Cheryl, you can't make Beatrice cry - she could die from blood loss!"
"How?"
"Vampires cry blood! That's how we lost my wife and mother-in-law!"
"Oh sh*t! I didn't know she could die!" Cheryl gasped, "What do we do?!"
"We need her to feed on you so she has enough blood to survive!"
"How come youse can't do it?"
"Because human blood- look, just do what I say! Quick!" Thomas snapped, forcing Beatrice's mouth open.
"Beatrice! Feed on Cheryl!" He instructed.
Beatrice's weight held Cheryl down on the bathroom tiles, and her nails dug into her as her fangs sunk into her neck once again. Cheryl let out a sharp exhale from the initial surge of pain ripping into her body, but after that she felt nothing. Life pumped out of her as she knew it. Her skin lost all saturation, leaving her a ghastly white. Her dark brown discoloured and eyeballs sunk into the back of her head. This was the end.
In the battle of thirst and lust, Beatrice's dying thirst won. And that was the sick moral of this tale.
Never fall for a vampire.
Beatrice's family and the rest of her kind still lived on. They remained living beneath the mines of normality. As long as this breed of supernatural beings continued to infiltrate the rich-ridden sect of London, they would never die. Vampires would bring longer lives and permanent youthfulness to all of mankind...
All for the price of love languishing into darkened depths of contamination.