She wanted it. She asked for it. Playing the role of a meek little librarian was just an act. I could tell. She wanted someone to out her. She wanted someone to show the world what a slut she was...and I was that man.
All hunters understand that knowing your prey is the most important thing. Patience runs a close second. It helps if you are just a little OCD too. Details are important.
She lived in an apartment, our little librarian. Alone, but not secluded or cut off from the rest of the world. She had an active social life and her own place. She was working on her masters in library science.
She?
Evelyn or Evie to her friends, but with a body like hers she was Christmas any way you spelt it.
Did I say body?
Her face was Hellenistic with cheekbones a model would die for, dark, soulful brown eyes, a pert little Celestial nose and full kissable lips. She didn't belong in a library. She belonged on the cover of Vogue or Penthouse.
Penthouse?
Okay, fine.
She was built too, with a tiny Scarlett O'hara waist and a full handful of bosom that filled out any dress she wore nicely. Not that she wore dresses. No, our girl was a plain Jane business attire only kind of slut. She wore skirts instead of trousers unless she was going out and she had an affectation for sweaters and jackets that covered her assets like a bodyguard.
Oh, she was attractive enough, in an understated way. If she looked too attractive, she didn't like it. She didn't want to be appreciated for her body. At twenty-three and enrolled in the local college masters program she was still a virgin.
A virgin slut?
She had not yet discovered the inner slut lurking beneath the surface of her academic façade, but I knew. I could see what she really was. I knew what she wanted.
And I knew how to lure the inner slut out. She would come to me. She would beg me to make her my slut. She would beg me to use her for my pleasure.
She wasn't Evelyn the librarian. She was Slut, the whore. She was the tramp who would pay me to transform her from a virgin into the true slut that hid beneath her business suits and dowdy sweaters.
One of the tricks of the trade is to know your equipment. Inhibition destroyers are a significant part of the seduction trade. The single most available inhibition destroyer is alcohol. Unfortunately, good girls don't drink. Well, not enough to get themselves into trouble. Definitely not enough to lower their inhibitions enough to allow the corruption of their inner slut to show through.
This is where grain alcohol comes in.
You can add it to just about any innocent sweet drink, like a wine cooler, and it will transform innocence into wildness.
I lured her with roleplaying.
To play the part of a director, for that is what Game Masters are in the roleplaying community, was easy. The game was every Friday night at a friend's house. He was an older gentleman. An easy mark for an intellectual rebel like myself. So few people think. Fewer still do think, but don't do it well. I, on the other hand, know how to think.
Gustav recognized the genius of my intellect and invited me to DM a table top version of the LARP (live-action role-playing) game he hosted every Friday night. Evelyn was his target. I was his gift to her. He figured that if I amused her then he would reap the benefits by association.
Poor fool.
He was nearly twice her age and short and thin and of German ancestry. If he'd taken the time to learn abut her family he would have known that daddy dearest was tall and dark, a son of the Mediterranean. He was Italian, but not Roman Catholic. Oh no. Evelyn is Mormon. Well, her family is Mormon. She is a rebel. An independent.
Or so she thinks.
Regardless, Mr. Gustav had no chance. He wasn't her type.
Neither was I. I am fair haired and blue eyed...but my character in the game was not. A little hair dye and dark contacts transformed me from an Aryan ideal to a Mediterranean dream. A dark man of mystery that looked oh so familiar.
The live-action game was new at the time. It was called Vampire: The Masquerade. Even the name was a party. Simplistic, it appealed to the wannabe actors and actresses of the edge. In the game they could be as evil as they wanted to be without ever risking true pain. Me? My character was an ugly vampire. A true Nosferatu with features that would send any normal woman who met me in a dark alley screaming. Of course, I wore a mask only when I was not socializing in Elysium, the neutral territory designated by the Prince of the city. The mask was a custom-fitted latex disguise that I could slip on over my dark Mediterranean façade.
Our slut was a Harpy. She was a fashionista who specialized in collecting dirt on the other characters. My character specialized in digging up that dirt.
Of course, my character never approached her directly. A Harpy could not be caught socializing with an ugly person. Not even one who wore an acceptable disguise in Elysium. It would be a scandal. Of course, eventually, after months of play, her sources revealed that a certain unmentionable one was providing much of the juicy gossip she was receiving. She was curious, but I always left the game early, around midnight and was never available for consultation, save on my own terms. My terms always being through respectable intermediaries. The tools that worked for me enjoyed the notoriety of their position and the favor of the Prince's favorite Harpy.
Did I mention that Gustav was also the Prince of the City in this game?
Sometimes it pays to be the host.
I alway made sure that the dirt I provided about him would eventually reveal that he was just being a good Prince, in the Machiavellian sense of the word.
Of course, all this was Manipulation 101. When you are young and rich, anything is possible. I spent the hours between midnight and three, when the game usually ended, down the street in a van recording various conversations and scenes between the characters and players from the simple bugs I'd placed there between games.
The drama between the players was often more entertaining than the play itself. In the year I played the game there were two divorces, a wedding, a pregnancy (and three more scares, clever girls) and an arrest of a drug dealer...and that was just the players. The game itself had more artificial drama, ranging from theft and murder to frames for theft and murder and gun running and drug dealing. Of course, there were the other offenses, like breaking the rules of the Masquerade. Prohibitions like siring unsanctioned childer, killing other kindred (what the vampires called other vampires when in character) and breaking the Masquerade, that is, revealing the existence of vampires to the unawakened, the kine, or normals, as mortals are called. It was all very amusing. A little sad, but amusing. Some of the characters were quite witty and clever. Others...not so much. The others tended to run through characters like water through an ancient grain mill wheel.
After only three months of this Frederick Gustav invited Evelyn and three other girls to play the game I had been running for him. It was a new diceless game about immortals playing the game of thrones in a multiverse. It was a game in which the players start out with characters that are godlike Princes and Princesses of various realms. Realms ranging from the human kingdoms of law and order to the chaos kingdoms of demons and devils. All the characters were vying for the position of Overlord (or Overlady, ha) of the multiverse.
In less than six months I was holding private sessions for each of the characters. Most often at their homes, so they would feel safe. However, soon I was holding them for Evelyn at a small house in the country far, far from prying eyes. I am not one who thinks that just because I am sneaky that I have a corner on the market. At least one other player was making tapes of his conversations in Elysium and selling them back to the guilty parties, so I was very careful about what I and my characters said.
After a year it was summer again and Evelyn had become comfortable coming to my place in the country for Saturday night sessions with her character Katherine-Elizabeth D'Moraine, Princess of Chaos. The character was a younger version of her Harpy in the vampire game. One who was used and abused by a villain known as Richard, the Grandmaster of Assassins in the Dream Realm. By this time she was used to doing live-action scenes with him. Scenes in which she was blindfolded and led through various sensory teasing environments, like those one might find in a haunted house. The realms of Chaos are, in her words, icky, but she kept coming back for more.
I eased her into the bondage scene, starting with see-through blindfolds that she had to pretend not to be able to see through and yarn handcuffs on her wrists, which were bound in front of her. This led to blacked out superhero masks, the kind that covered only her eyes and then a leather blindfold mask acquired during a trip to the Big Apple. (Read: Far out of town for a midwestern villain.)
Eventually I worked up to binding her hands behind her, making her assets stand out nicely. When I could see her nipples perk up beneath her dowdy sweatshirt I knew she was ready for the next step.
This was when I began lacing her wine coolers with two hundred proof grain alcohol and testing her tolerance. Not much, mind you, but with a hundred and ten pound woman not much is required. A single shot of grain alcohol in a twelve ounce cooler turns it into a thirty proof drink. Two shots in the second one turns it into a fifty proof drink. Still she never drank more than two wine coolers during an evening. Our little slut was careful that way since she had to drive back to the city when we were done.
One Halloween night the Friday game was called due to a Gustav family emergency.
Oops.
One of his cousins had died.
And some people claim not to believe in destiny.
Of course, Evelyn begged me to run my game for her and her friends, but I begged off, saying I always left early on Friday night for a reason, though I refused to reveal that reason to anyone.
At ten-thirty I called Evelyn and got her answering machine. I left her a message saying my Saturday morning appointment had canceled and would she like to come over for a late night session?
Then I turned my phone off and prepared for the night to come.
At eleven-thirty Evelyn's white Camery pulled into my long driveway.
She was alone, but that didn't mean she didn't call the other players and ask them to join us. She was usually careful that way. The social implications of spending a Friday night with a known Nosferatu still weighed on her.
I had left the door open and a single dim light on in the living room. There was a cold wine cooler on the table. I poured half of it into a crystal wine glass and added two shots of grain alcohol to the wine glass and another two shots to the remaining contents of the wine cooler bottle. I left a decanter of spiked sherry on the table too. Just as a temptation. Evelyn likes her sweet drinks, even if they are more potent. This decanter was filled with a mixture strong enough to make a veteran sailor stumbling drunk after two glasses. There were fresh celery and carrot sticks in a candy bowl on the coffee table. The note on the table beside the refreshments said I was out collecting props and that she should make herself comfortable. I would be back soon.
I signed the note, Your Dungeon Master.
Then I retired to the attic to watch my little librarian undo herself.
She was dressed to go out in a black miniskirt and matching three inch come-fuck-me pumps. Her blonde hair was curled and put up so that her long graceful neck was exposed. Around that elegant neck was a thin black ribbon. A choker of sorts. She carried a cute little black clutch for her license, credit cards and keys. It was an unusual look for her, even in her Harpy persona, but I figured that she had made plans to go out and they had fallen through.
Like I said: Destiny.
She settled herself on the leather couch, which was in against the picture window, facing the fireplace. Fifteen minutes later Evelyn stood and started pacing impatiently. I dialed her number.
"Richard!" she exclaimed, relieved. "Where are you?"
Yes, I named the major villain in my game after myself. I wanted the players, I mean, the characters to associate pain with my name.
"Just getting some snacks and props," I replied. "Where are you?"
"In your living room," she said.
"I hope you haven't been waiting long," I said. "I left about twenty minutes ago, but I'll be back in another fifteen."
"I am fine. I must have just missed you," she said. "I am looking forward to playing Lisa tonight. It has been a long week. Isn't it terrible about Frederick's cousin Susan?"
"A shame," I agreed. "Sorry, I gotta go. Traffic is picking up. We'll talk when I get back. Make yourself at home."
