I wake just before dusk, safe and secure in my room. Enveloped by darkness, but still able to see the faint traces of the sun's last light under the door to my bedroom, I sit up and pause at the edge of my bed. I pull my hair back away from my face, only to have it tumble forward again. The fog in my head clears at the same moment the light winks out from under my door. Bright-eyed and alert now, I can think about the night ahead. I slip off the end of my bed and pad around the room. The floor is cool against my bare feet and it heightens my senses even further. Yes… tonight I am hungry. Tonight I will hunt.
Smiling to myself I quickly go through all the necessary motions, getting together clothing, money, keys, etc. In the shower I ponder my options. Should I go to the park, the library, or the clubs? The warm water on my skin is delicious, like thousands of warm fingers on my skin. Drying myself after the shower, I return to my options. Remembering the last fiasco at the park, and the sadly empty library, I once again decide on the rather obvious choice and start laying out my clubwear. Though not raver wear nor the typical Goth uniform of black on black on black, I am dressed fashionably enough to be noticed without drawing too much attention. Feeling the fabric against my skin focuses me and I walk with purpose from my room. Dressed and out of my own special room, I begin to play at belonging again. Breathe, don't glide, and don't move too quickly; nothing out of the ordinary here. After leaving the house, I climb into my car and start out into the city. On my way in, I pass a huge four-wheel drive monstrosity carrying three men in camouflage. My teeth flash as I laugh in the shadows of my car. I realize that's what this body is to me; it's my real-tree camo.
I'm now submerged in the sights, smells and sounds of a city at night. The old have gone home from their day jobs, living their little suburban lives. The young have taken over the city and all is as it should be after the moon comes to preside over her children. I realize it's Sunday night, and that means thinner crowds… well thinner crowds everywhere but at that little club just outside the city's safe edge. They call it the Church, and it's filled with people absolutely obsessed with darkness and debauchery and the pleasures of the flesh. It's the image that they wish to portray; these lonely, desperate children, playing at being adults and making choices based on what feels good. I love them for it. I stroll in smiling, unlike the somber black-clad youths trying to look like what I am. I chuckle to myself as a walk through the dark entryway and head directly upstairs. I can see the dance floor from there, and I can see I'll be leaving soon. All I have to do is find the perfect… and there you are.
Dancing to the music that pulses like a living thing, the movement of your body is fluid and beautiful. Not alone on the dance floor, you move from partner to partner with your eyes closed. Bodies slide and grind against you, you return the passion. Fueling the movements of those around you, touching when touched and slipping away, you tease the entire dance floor. I make my way down the stairs and scan the dance floor. Knowing you'll make your way to me soon enough, I enjoy the heat and the press of warm flesh against me. The smell of sweat and musk and perfume and hairspray and cigarettes and alcohol is everywhere. And over all of it is sex, raw human desire. I allow myself to swim in it, the feelings and sounds and smells bombarding my body are more intoxicating than any liquor. And suddenly, you're there, your body against mine.
I open my eyes and look down into your face and the connection is made. Your eyes slip open halfway and you smile up at me. You're grinding against me; I can feel your breast pressing urgently against my chest. I am moving with you, our bodies writhing in concert… both of us feeling the movements of the other and matching them. Songs blend into others as we dance. You spin and now you're facing away from me, our bodies just as close as before. You slide down my front, your hands on my thighs as you sink towards the floor, never breaking contact with my body. Pushing off from the floor, your hands slip to my inner thighs before quickly sliding around to my ass as you continue to wriggle and move to the music.
As the music changes to a slower song, you turn back to face me. Looking me in the eyes you seem to be considering something. The decision is made easily enough and you take my hand and lead me off the dance floor. When we don't head towards a bar or towards the stairs, I'm honestly confused for a moment. I follow, smiling as the hunted leads the hunter by the hand into the dark corner near the back stairs of the bar. Pulling me to you, you lean in and whisper in my ear, "You're mine now." Still smiling, I turn and say very softly into your ear, "No, little one, you are mine."
