Now for something a little different! Never worry, gentle readers, David will get plenty of action, but I figure it's time to let some others get some too.
Paul had no way of knowing if he looked decent or not, but he was never one to be overly concerned about his looks. Girls always watched him when he walked, so he figured that was good enough.
Shaving was a bitch, though. When one could not see one’s reflection in a mirror, it was a minor bother to say the least. At least Laddie had an electric shaver. That made things a hell of a lot easier.
He regarded Laddie’s toothbrush for a guilty moment, debating. Should he? Finally, he shrugged and pulled it from the holder, squirting a glob of toothpaste on it. Like Laddie would ever know. Paul knew one thing for sure. He couldn’t go on his date with a skanky case of death breath. He’d never get past first base!
He found some rubbing alcohol in the medicine cabinet beside the sink, and once he finished brushing his teeth, he poured it over the toothbrush, rubbed it in good, and rinsed it off. Now that his guilt was assuaged, he could replace the toothbrush in the holder and start getting dressed. He only had half an hour before he was to meet his co-worker, her boyfriend, and the cousin she was setting him up with for the night.
Laddie’s jeans were a tad on the short side for Paul, but it wouldn’t show with the boots he’d wear. His shirts fit him well enough. With his hair blow dried and styled, some fresh smelling aftershave applied, and his jacket waiting in the living room, Paul was ready to go. He was supposed to meet Lana at ‘Pizza My Heart’ at ten. The late hour didn’t concern her since she had to work that night until nine and needed time to get home and get ready. They would have an hour to eat and get to know each other before the restaurant closed. In order to assure they’d have plenty of time to chow, Lana said she would order ahead.
Paul was already feeling well satisfied from his earlier feeding, but he said nothing as he pulled into the parking lot of the pizza joint. He could always bolt down a good pizza pie, blood or not. His more immediate concern was Lana’s cousin. He had been assured that she was not a dog, but blind dates made him nervous. The last time he’d ever been on a date where he didn’t eat the date was…
And it wouldn’t do to eat his co-worker’s cousin. No matter how ugly or gorgeous she was, Paul knew he’d have to keep his fangs in his head.
Lana and her boyfriend were pulling into the parking lot at the same time. In the back seat, Paul could make out the profile of the car’s third passenger. There wasn’t much he could tell about her.
“Jeff, this is my co-worker, Paul. He’s going to be Anya’s friend tonight. Paul, this is my fiancé, Jeff,” Lana introduced. She had a thick Slavic accent that won her many favorites in the job they did, and Paul knew it wasn’t just put on for show. She was native of Russia or some other formerly Communist country, and had only been in the U.S. for a few years. She and Paul had become friends when she asked him for ‘help’, making sure that she was saying the ‘right things’ on the phone in English. Paul, of course, was more than willing to coach her. Truthfully, he had been bummed to find out she had a boyfriend.
“So, you two are engaged now?” Paul asked, with a hint of amused surprise. Jeff looked like a dweeb compared to Lana. One could not say that Lana was stunningly beautiful to look at. She was of average height and build, and her eyes were set somewhat close together, but Paul knew exactly what she was capable of saying on the phone, and how she could say it. Her deep, throaty voice coupled with that exotic accent made her anything but plain. A little make up and a red dress would shoot her right up the hot scale, in Paul’s opinion. A dork like Jeff did not deserve a hotty like Lana.
“Yeah, I’m gonna make her mine,” Jeff replied proudly. He hefted up Lana’s hand to show off a smallish, marquise cut diamond settled on her ring finger. Why Paul hadn’t seen it there before was beyond him. Maybe Lana didn’t wear it at work? He chose not to remark on it.
“Well, congratulations,” he said.
Lana spoke into the open windows of the car in a foreign language that Paul couldn’t understand. The passenger door opened, and a girl emerged. She wore a pair of tight white pants and a pink sweater that showed off a pair of shapely breasts that immediately caught Paul’s attention. Her raven colored hair was caught back in a simple barrette and fell just past her shoulders. In the darkness, Paul couldn’t tell if her eyes were dark blue, or some off shade of violet, but the light application of eye shadow she wore gave them some sort of a violet reflection. He smiled. She wasn’t a dog. So, she wasn’t perfect. Her hips were a bit on the square side, and her jaw was a little heavy, but she was a far cry from being a dog. In fact, she was quite pretty.
“This is my cousin, Anya. Let’s go inside, and you two can get to know each other better,” Lana suggested.
Anya shyly examined Paul from beneath a fringe of long, dark eyelashes. Paul’s eyes traveled up and down her tall, lithe frame for a lingering moment before they all headed inside the pizzeria.
Paul and Anya sat together in the booth, while Lana and Jeff sat opposite them on the other side of the table. Their pizza was delivered to their table after only a few minutes, along with a pitcher of soda and four glasses.
“So, how long have you been in town, Anya?” Paul asked, trying to break the ice.
She smiled at him, and a flush crept up her cheeks.
“I no know English,” she told him in an accent that was much heavier than Lana’s. Then she gazed down at her hands, which were nervously twining together.
“She’s only been here for two days,” Lana explained, “But she’s here to stay. She’s going to sign up for some English classes in a couple of weeks. I’ve been teaching her a couple of words and phrases, but she doesn’t know much. I can translate for you.”
“Ah, okay, this will be interesting,” Paul said with a nervous smile.”
“You don’t mind do you?”
“No. I don’t mind a bit.”
“Good. See, Anya is just looking to have some fun tonight. She is getting married next week,” Lana explained gravely.
“Married? You mean, you’re engaged too? Look, I don’t know about this. I don’t want some big, beefy guy to jump out of the shadows wanting to beat my ass or something…”
“Oh, no, no, don’t worry about that. Anya has never even met her husband. Well, not in person, anyways. They’ve only talked on the internet. By mail.”
Paul cocked his head. Then he gazed at Anya.
“You’re gonna marry some dude you’ve never even met in person?”
" I get marry,” Anya replied with a small smile.
“How is it she’s marrying some American guy if she can’t talk English?” Paul asked.
“Oh, the man she’s marrying can talk Russian. And he wants a Russian bride. Anya wants to come to America. So, she found his advertisement for a Russian bride one day and started to talk to him. After a while, she agreed to marry him so she could come here,” Lana explained.
Paul shook his head.
“All this to come to America? What if this guy is a total asshole? An axe murderer or a kiddy boffer or something?”
“That’s what Anya has me for. He lives nearby. I met him first a few times. He’s older, and not the most handsome man, but he has a good job. He’ll make a good husband. I tell Anya all about him, and she agrees it would be better than living in Russia with all the long lines and unrest and inflation. You really have no idea what it’s like back home. It’s so much better here…”
“Even with a stick in the mud husband?”
“Oh, yes. In Russia, Anya has nobody. Here, she has me. And, you and me and Jeff can show her a good time before she goes to marry her stick in the mud husband, no?”
If Anya understood a word they said between them, she made no indication, but she smiled prettily whenever Paul gazed at her. He now felt a little sorry for her. Sure, why not show her a good time? They finished their pizza while an employee passed by with a broom and a dustpan, pointedly beginning to clean up the dining room. Though they still had twenty minutes to finish their meal, it was obvious that the employee was reminding them that time was running short. At last, they finished their meal, and slid out of the booth.
“Where to now?” Paul debated aloud in the parking lot, wondering what sort of amusements might intrigue a girl new to the country.
“I was just thinking we should go to our place. I have a nice bar, and I’ll make us some cocktails,” Lana said with a smile.
“Sounds good,” Paul agreed happily.
Lana translated this to Anya while Jeff started up the car.
“Ask her if she wants to ride with me,” Paul said, motioning to his bike. He wondered if Anya would be nervous about a motorcycle ride.
Once again, Lana put her translation abilities to work. Anya regarded the motorcycle thoughtfully, and after a second, her face lit up with an eager smile. She nodded enthusiastically.
“I take it that’s a ‘yes’.”
“Just follow us. We don’t live too far away,” Lana called as she headed off towards the car.
Paul led Anya over to his bike and helped to settle her onto the back of it. Fortunately, he was used to carrying passengers from time to time now that he’d given Alex rides here and there in the time that he’d known her. Anya slid her arms around his waist and held on tightly with one hand. She let the other hand play along his thigh, caressing the rough material of his jeans. He’d heard somewhere that real Levi’s were hard to come by in Russia. Maybe he’d even heard that from Lana. Whatever the case, maybe Anya was impressed by what he was wearing. Or maybe she was anxious to start heating things up. Whatever the case, it was definitely going to be an interesting night. With a careless grin, he started up his bike and raced to catch up with the car that was already signaling to leave the parking lot.
Lana’s apartment was small, but it was given the illusion of being bigger by its Spartan furnishings. A love seat, a coffee table, a recliner, and a TV on a stand were the only living room furnishings present. There was a dining nook off the kitchen, but instead of a dining set, Lana had a computer table set up in there. The bar she spoke of was actually an extension of the kitchen counter. Two bar stools sat beneath it. It was well stocked with vodka, brandy, rum and some club soda. There was no telling what she kept in the refrigerator. Paul wondered if she and Jeff did a lot of entertaining.
There looked to be two bedrooms and a bathroom in a T shaped hallway off the living room. The apartment was fairly unremarkable with the exception of the bar. Paul and Anya flopped onto the love seat.
“What’s your poison?” Lana asked, immediately picking up the role of bartender.
“Rum and coke sounds good,” Paul answered, eyeing her selection. He noticed she went straight for the Vodka when mixing her own drink. She also made another drink with Vodka, and he assumed that one might be for Anya. His presumption proved to be right. Jeff helped her carry the cocktails over to the loveseat.
They drank and talked their way through a couple of cocktails, with Lana carefully translating the conversation so that Anya felt like a part of it. Most of it centered on highjinks at work, which Jeff, apparently never seemed to tire of hearing about. Obviously, he didn’t appear to be threatened of Lana’s profession in the dirty call business, but at least her clientele were anonymous people on a phone line. After a lull in the conversation, Anya set her glass on the table, smiled knowingly at Paul, and took him by the hand. With gentle, upwards pressure, she urged him up off the loveseat and led him back to the smaller of the apartment’s two bedrooms.
Like the rest of the place, it was furnished simply. It was merely a guest room with boxes tossed in for the couple’s storage needs as well. A twin bed was shoved against the wall, with a night stand next to it. Opposite the footboard was a dresser. Then, various boxes were stacked against the walls containing things that Lana and Jeff had no other obvious place for in their apartment. Anya steered Paul towards the bed and wordlessly directed him to sit down on the edge of the mattress with a gentle pressure to his shoulders. He obliged with a smirk, not needing a Russian to English translator to know what was coming next. Gracefully, she straddled his lap and folded her log legs around his waist. She twined her hands through his hair and leaned in for a kiss. He could smell the mortal warmth mixed in with the alcohol on her breath and grew instantly heady.
Before long, their kisses grew more heated and more insistent. When Paul reached down to lift her tight, pink sweater up over her shoulders, Anya gave no protest what so ever. Her bra was a disappointing, white, utilitarian affair, and Paul wasted no time getting rid of it. What was beneath was no disappointment. Anya arched her back into his mouth as he claimed each of her breasts in turn, fondling their warmth in his hands, and teasing each pink nipple between his teeth until they were almost painfully erect. She wiggled on his lap excitedly, causing waves of ecstasy to shoot through his groin. The girl had to know how hard he was. He knew she could feel it. To make sure she did, he ground his pelvis against her backside with a few hungry jerks as he caressed the luscious bounty she presented in his face. Anya panted, moaned and wiggled back. Hell, yeah, she understood. No translations needed there.
Paul pulled her down on top of him, instinctively seeking the warmth of the veins on her neck, while his hands traveled the length of her back. She smelled of a light perfume; maybe violets or something. He pressed his nose in deeper; he wanted to smell the blood beneath her delicate skin. Then, just as suddenly, he jerked his head back. NO! He couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t be dinner. No eating her. He laid his head back on the mattress and fumbled for the opening of her pants, desperately searching for a distraction. Yes, that would do nicely. Anya helped him eagerly, and slid out of her own clothes quickly. Soon, she wriggled atop him naked. Paul smiled as she began to work on his clothing. His sluggish heart began to pick up a beat. Warmth seeped into his extremities. That was the awesome thing about fucking. He loved it. He felt warm. Almost alive. He knew when he touched her that she wouldn’t notice that his hands were cold. In a very short time, they wouldn’t be. He’d make sure to touch her so much on her warm, mortal body, they couldn’t be.
Paul flipped her over, enjoying the sight of her vulnerable nakedness beneath him. Anya didn’t seem bothered by it in the least. Perhaps she was coming here as a mail order bride, but Mr. Stick in the Mud wasn’t getting a virgin bride. Paul hoped her husband would know how to please her. He smiled down at her as he stroked her inner thighs, eliciting moans from her as he teased her. Though he knew she wouldn’t understand a damn word he said to her, it didn’t matter to him.
“I promised I’d give you a good time. I’m gonna live up to it,” he said with a smile.
Anya’s breaths were coming out in tiny hitches as she fought to comprehend what her lover was telling her. There were questions in her eyes, but Paul only chuckled.
“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to know what I’m saying. Just enjoy the ride.”
He leaned over her and rubbed his hardened length up and down her belly, eliciting another moan from her. Paul couldn’t help but to allow himself the luxury of lowering himself down to the level of her neck and breathing in the sweet perfume of violets and her pounding pulse as he did this. One of his hands traveled down her body and found its way in between her thighs. His fingers made slow circles where he knew she was most vulnerable to his touch. She was open and ready for his advances, and she jerked against his fingers, moaning and thrusting as he touched her. Paul easily found the entrance to her passions and inserted his fingers deeply. Anya’s fingers dug into his shoulders, massaging them deeply as she moaned and panted in his ear. He continued to rub his hardness against her belly, feeling her warm skin against his shaft. It drove him crazy knowing how much warmer she’d be once he was within her.
Paul took on of her hands and placed it on his hardened cock.
“Do you want it girl?” he asked her.
Anya looked at him in a confused daze. Then, comprehension began to seep through when he thrust within her with the fingers of his other hand.
“Do you want me?” he emphasized the question again, thrusting and making her stroke his hardness at the same time, so she’d equate the two of them together.
Anya smiled. She got it.
“Da!” she cried.
“In English,” Paul taunted, thrusting his fingers again, “Say ‘yes’. You’re in America now..”
Anya looked frustrated.
“Say yes,” Paul told her firmly, thrusting his fingers yet again, enjoying his dominance over her.
“Yes! Yes!” Anya finally cried, holding hard to his swollen member and stroking it. Was this what he wanted?
“Good girl!” Paul moaned.
He nuzzled her reassuringly and straddled her, lifting her legs to fit over his hips. She was good and ready for him, and her moan was thick with passion when he filled her with his thickness. Maybe their game had excited her more than he knew, because after only a few good thrusts, her cries of passion filled the room. Paul had no idea what the few Russian words mixed in with her moans meant but he didn’t care. The orgasmic spasms that surrounded his hardened cock were pure heaven, and he lifted his mortal prize up and buried his head in her neck. He was so damn close. Oh, so close.
If only he could…
God, he was just on the verge of going fang. Paul had to keep his face hidden so she wouldn’t accidentally get a glimpse of amber in his eyes or a long tooth. Fortunately, there weren’t any mirrors in the room, so she wasn’t likely to notice he had no reflection. His nails were lengthening. It was happening as he got closer, and there wasn’t shit he could do to stop it. Finally, he reached up and dug one of them across the back of her shoulder, just deep enough to draw blood. Anya flinched. Paul smelled blood. His tongue caught the first drops before they could run down her skin. She’d never feel them. Release was immediate and explosive. He nearly forgot he was in full fang as the waves of pleasure shot through him and he emptied himself into her warmth. It was only when he was finished and the passion was ebbing from his body did he become aware his position. He was still clinging tightly to her with his head thrown over her shoulder; eyes closed. It wasn’t likely that she noticed a thing.
Paul released his powerful grip on her some, but remained in that position until he was good and sure that no traces of his vampire self remained. Anya didn’t ask him about the scratch to her shoulder. She probably forgot it was there. Paul healed it for her, and she would never see it. The girl was content to lay against him and drift off to sleep, never suspecting that she was bedding down with a vampire. She was one of the few lucky ones that made it to this point with him. Most of his conquests would be headed for sea by now, or flambé in a bonfire.
The only thing that saved Anya’s ass was that she was a co-worker’s cousin.
Paul drifted to sleep for awhile, but his internal alerts sounded close to sunrise. It was time to get back to his pack. Now was the time to feel a little guilt for leaving Alex and Laddie on the night of their first kill. Still, he felt justified. After all, he knew they’d sleep the whole damn night. And, David had sanctioned his leaving. The stories he’d have to tell the guys would be worth it, no doubt. Wouldn’t they love to hear about this!
He was jaunty in spirit as he got dressed. Anya didn’t stir. He paused for a brief moment to consider her future. Too bad she was going to marry a Stick in the Mud. But, it was her decision. Hopefully, it was a good one. If not, there was always divorce, he supposed. Paul stopped to scribble a quick note to Lana that he had to go. He was brief about his reasons, but he didn’t suppose he owed anything to a girl that was already engaged.
Then, he located his bike, which was parked in a ‘visitor’s only’ parking space in the complex, and roared away. The sky was already pearling gray with the onset of dawn.