This is a tentative, possible first chapter of a series. Further additions are dependent on any feedback this piece may receive.
Thanks to those who took the time to cast an eye over what follows. I listened to suggestions and took what I agreed with, so if you don't like this effort, then the blame lies solely with me.
*
In this part of the world the month of October means an abrupt ending to the days, with the night taking hold by 5pm, retaining its grip for long, dark hours with an iron hand before grudgingly letting go more than twelve hours later. For me it's the finest time of the year. The anticipation builds slowly as the summer softly wanes towards the autumnal equinox, following which will be time for me to hunt again. I know she's out there, somewhere close, going about her daily business with no inkling of what's to come; ignorant to the malevolence.
Ah, the anticipation as the hunger grows. I resist the urge to masturbate despite the craving for release. Blunting my instincts by succumbing could cost me my quarry. A winter without her is long, cold, and bitterly desperate for a creature such as me. I suffered lean years in my youth, in the time before I honed my skills; the darkest being Paris, 1917. That bitch of a café girl and her cats. Two years without feeding. A third would have been fatal to me. No, I wouldn't succumb to desire.
My favourite hunting ground in this modern age is the shopping mall. All the possibles herded into one small area. How very convenient for me. This year the stalk was quickly over. Appropriately I found her on the eve of Samhain.
I was sipping an americano -- a recently acquired taste -- at one of the ubiquitous coffee stalls when I sensed her. She was very close. All that remained was the simple matter of surveying the passing hordes, scanning the crowd, disregarding each disappointment one by one until I experienced a near physical shock and my heart quickened. It was her. She was so close I could smell her. My cock immediately stiffened to iron tumescence while my stomach tightened in sympathetic anticipation. The coffee forgotten I suppressed a groan and gazed at the quarry.
She walked with leonine grace that was instantly recognisable to me, moving with the elegance and style of that rare one, the one who can satisfy my hunger; my urges. I pictured her naked in my mind's eye; holding an image of her supine and used amidst a tangle of bedding; her hair messed; bosom heaving with spent exertion, her skin moist with her sweat and my semen. I growled, low and snickering before rising quickly to follow.
The most fragile time was coming; I needed to act with caution. The moment of meeting was crucial. In that instant she would make her decision. The plain and simple truth of it was that if she sensed anything at all about my intent; if she didn't like the look of me; if there wasn't an instant attraction . . . Then all would be lost for this season. There are tricks of the trade of course, but it has been known for the prey to sense the danger. And in that moment Schroedinger's cat is dead.
She browsed at length, slowly, moving from shop to shop with me never far behind. Eventually she paid for her parking and walked briskly to the stairwell. I followed, skulking down the dank-walled flights of concrete steps, always keeping a landing between us until she pushed open a door to the concourse and approached a car. Using the electronic key she unlocked the car door and, even as the lights flashed I'd committed the registration to memory. I smiled as she drove down the ramp towards the street level. I may be a creature of solitary habits, but I do have my drones in the upper world. My ability to seek out the corruptible, the easily manipulated has its uses. Finding her again would be a simple process, James, my tame policeman, with his predilection for pharmaceuticals would be just the tool.
***
The man, Matthew as he was known currently, approached Helen as she left the free-weights room. It was her second visit to the gymnasium of the three per week her self-imposed routine demanded. Nearing fifty, Helen found a strict exercise regimen kept her feeling invigorated and desirable. Being used to male attention since her late teens, Helen adored the compliments she still received.
"Excuse me." Helen turned at the hesitant voice. "Would you spot for me?" She surveyed the man, his expression expectant, standing by the weight-room apparatus. "The staff are busy with inductions," he continued, "and since there's nobody but us..." He shrugged.
"Well, I suppose I could," Helen eyed the bar and its encumbrance, "but it looks rather heavy."
"You just have to stand here," the man indicated the position with a nod of his head. "And just be ready in case there's a problem." There was a pause before he hurriedly added, "Which of course there won't be. This weight isn't an issue; it's just club rules, 'no bench press without a spotter'." The man grimaced and rolled his eyes. "Rules are rules I suppose. What do you say? Will you help?"
"All right then," Helen succumbed, "just remind me exactly what it is I have to do."
Ten minutes later, freshly showered, Helen was leaving the gym when bench-press man approached.
"Hello again," he smiled. "Thanks for the help; I appreciate it."
"No problem," Helen replied, turning to leave.
"Can I thank you by buying you a drink?"
The rebuttal formed naturally in Helen's throat; the instinctive rejection of a worldly-wise female. But, as she faced the man to let him down gently, she saw something in his expression; there was something in his look that caught her attention. Helen found herself suddenly intrigued by the stranger. She sensed some element of danger in him; deep and mysterious. There was something more, something undefined that her grasping mind found to be just out of reach. In the weights room, much to her surprise, Helen found her body responding to the man's physical proximity. He was a damn fine specimen; very easy on the eye; but then again he was at least twenty years her junior, and besides, Helen was married to Bobby. It was all very well forming the occasional, quick fantasy, but there was no way she would ever act on it. Then amidst the confusion a shock of emotion welled within her; a dissonance; a whirl of mixed feelings. Bemused by the clamouring of instinct and attraction, and despite a warning like a faint scent of smoke on the wind, Helen made her fatal choice
To her surprise Helen found herself with a vodka and tonic on the table in front of her in a quiet public house a few doors along from the gym.
"Oh shit," she muttered after a glance at her watch. Helen had enjoyed his company. So much so that without realising an hour and a half had passed, and during that time Helen had drunk rather more vodka than was wise. "I'd better get going. I have to drive and I've had a couple of drinks already." Helen was surprised at how reluctant she was to leave. She cursed for a second time. "Well," she began as they both stood. "I do have to go. Thanks for the drinks; it really has been fun."
"I enjoyed myself too, Helen." Matthew moved close and kissed her cheek. "I wonder if..." Matthew broke off.
"What? You wonder what?" Helen noticed Matthew's expression, seeing the disappointment on his face
"I don't usually come on like this," Matthew began, his colour rising. "I mean... Well, it's been fun. I like you; I enjoyed your company... Oh hell, what I'm asking is if you'd care to do it again? Have a drink after the gym I mean."
Helen found his discomfit amusing and more than a little endearing. What harm can it do? she thought.
"Sure, why not?" Helen's emphatic nod sealed her resolve. "I come in again on Friday. Is that good for you?"
"Sure. Great!" Matthew grinned. "Friday it is."
***
The moment of crisis is past. She's mine. Oh, but to see her in those clothes; the athletic goddess; the cleave of her cunt in those close fitting shorts so close to my face... I had to fight the urge to take her there and then. The desire to rip the shorts from her body and suck at her juicy peach was vast. I had to pour all my efforts into that damnable bar. The scent of her fresh sweat and those heavy breasts swaying under her tee-shirt... This one is going to be such a delight.
I admit to a smug satisfaction at my acting ability. My little boy chagrin was her Achilles heel. How shy and awkward I was. However it does best not be too conceited; the moment of asking her for that drink was close to failure. I'm sure she was going to deny me until I poured all my will into her. A dangerous moment to be sure, but now it's done.
Now to Friday A few more hours in my company will do very nicely. More time to impose my spirit upon her. I'm tempted to move us to the physical sooner rather than later. I yearn for a taste of her. Just thinking about her facial expressions as I push her further along the path to her downfall excites me. I want to touch myself... Just a little... Just a few tugs on my cock... It would be exquisite.
