Dinner

Reagan and Carla are cuddling and intermittently kissing on the couch when there is a knock at the door.

Reagan doesn't quite know how she feels about...all of this. She finds herself unable to resist Carla's cool touch, her dark allure. Every neuron she posseses is screaming at her to find a way to leave, if that's even still possible. And yet, she can't.

Something feels so right about Carla's embrace. Reagan doesn't know if she's looking for a maternal figure or a lover in Carla; maybe it's both. By this point, Reagan has lost her top, and Carla's robe has fallen open. Reagan's face is nuzzled into Carla's breasts, as Carla gently caresses Reagan's back, dragging her sharp nails over the warm skin. Carla's cool skin feels strangely comforting against Reagan's flushed cheeks as Reagan kisses between Carla's breasts. Their "discussion" seems to have come to an end for now, and Carla doesn't push it.

"Come in" Carla says, stroking Reagan's hair. The door opens and Reagan looks up, turning around to face the door. She gasps, covering her mouth. A human servant dressed in a drab maid's uniform carries a silver tray. On it, Reagan sees what looks like a thick steak and a large glass of red wine. The servant quickly places the tray on a table by the side of the room, bows, and exits. But that's not why Reagan gasped.

Carla's assistant, Vanessa was it? Reagan thinks, is holding the bicep of a totally nude young woman. The woman is about 5'4", blindfolded, with straight black hair done up in a bun, and tan mocha skin. Her figure is slim, with small breasts. She wears a blindfold, and her hands are cuffed together in front of her. Reagan shudders, but can't look away. She notices that the girl's brown nipples are pierced, and she bears a stylized tattoo of fangs just above her right breast. Her body is covered in what look like scarred over puncture wounds.

"Your repast, mistress" Vanessa says obediently, "bathed and scented to your preference." Reagan notices Carla watching her intently as Reagan looks at the captive human. She tries her best to project a poker face but honestly has no idea what her expression is - this is all too surreal.

"Thank you, Vanessa, you can put her on the table as well" Carla instructs. Vanessa silently helps the captive to lay down on the table, next to the tray of food. Vanessa pulls up two chairs, one in front of the tray, and one opposite it in front of the supine female form. As the human walked by, Carla noticed a bar code tattooed on the back of her neck.

"Will there be anything else, mistress?" Vanessa inquires.

"No, that will be all, see the we aren't disturbed" Carla answers. Vanessa quietly exits, closing the door. Carla rises from the sofa, but Reagan is motionless. She begins to walk towards the table but pauses, looking back and extending a hand to Reagan.

Reagan hesitates, at once both repulsed and mesmerized by the surreal scene before her. Leave. NOW! something screams in her mind, but she ignores it. Timidly she extends her hand to Carla's, rising to her feet. Carla and Reagan walk to the table, and sit, Reagan in front of the steak and Carla before the human.

Reagan looks down, the steak smells delicious, perfectly seared. She nervously takes a long drink of the wine, it's bitter but smooth. Carla watches her, Carla's finger lazily playing with the nipple ring of her captive. Carla smiles congenially but her deep set dark eyes are those of a predator. Carla traces the tattoo on the captive's breast.

"Don't let your food get cold" Carla says, "it wasn't cheap". Reagan takes another sip of the wine, trying to take the edge off, as Carla lazily traces her fingertips over the girl's hip bone. Not wanting to disobey, Carla picks up her golden utensils and cuts into the steak. It's rare to the border of raw, bloody and pink. Rarer than Reagan prefers, but she takes a bite. It's perfect. Carla smiles, revealing her sharp fangs once more. Reagan chews the meat slowly, feeling Carla's eyes boring holes into her. Reagan takes another bite, feeling herself adjusting to the absurdity of this tableaux.

"Who is she?" Reagan asks nervously.

"Who cares?" Carla replies back, as if the very question was ridiculous. "She's food".

"Are you going to..." Reagan begins, trailing off uncertaintly.

"Going to what?" Carla taunts, obviously enjoying Reagan's discomfort.

"... Going to kill her?" Reagan says, barely above a whisper, nervously cutting into the steak to avoid looking up. Carla let's the question hang heavily in the air.

"Maybe?" Carla says nonchalantly. "Do you want me to kill her?" Carla asks, stroking the human's black hair, her unblinking eyes never leaving Reagan.

"No of course not!" Reagan says immediately in horror. Her fear isn't from the premise of the question. It's from the fact that inexplicably part of her desperately wanted to answer yes. Reagan feels sharp pangs of guilt and self-loathing, having no idea how to process her conflicted emotions.

"Give me your hand child" Carla commands, and Reagan slowly complies. Carla takes Reagan's hand and places it flat on the human's chest. "Do you feel its heartbeat?" Carla asks. It, Reagan thinks, terrified. "Pumping all that blood just for me." Thump, thump, thump; the captive's pulse is racing. The human's skin feels warm to Reagan's touch. Reagan wonders who this girl is. Was she an escort, just like me? she thinks nervously. Will I end up on this table next? Carla bends down, planting a chaste kiss on the human's lips, her hand moving up to squeeze the human's small but shapely breast.

"Reagan, I want you to hold its hand and tell it that everything is going to be alright" Carla instructs. Reagan feels a bit sickened at Carla's obvious cruelty, taunting her prey like a feline predator. Nonetheless, Reagan obeys, taking one of the captive's bound hands in her own and whispering "it's going to be okay, I promise" into her ear. Carla smiles, and winks at Reagan, before driving her sharp fangs into the cupped breast that she is holding. The captive jerks as the fangs pierce her flesh, gasping loudly. The girl whimpers as Reagan hears the sounds of Carla's sucking. She doesn't know what possesses her to do it, but Reagan reaches out to stroke Carla's hair as Carla's feeds.

Reagan is utterly mesmerized.

She is enraptured by the lurid display before her. Carla bites down harder, softly growling, and the human jerks again. Reagan knows she should be disgusted, but she finds herself.... Aroused? She watches, wide eyed, as Carla feeds from the woman. Reagan feels a wetness between her legs and finds herself inadvertently caressing the human's stomach and legs. She feels distant, like she's watching this unfold from inside dream. It feels darkly beautiful. It should be grotesque, but feels natural and sensuous. Reagan watches the labored rises and falls off the girl's chest, as some blood runs down from the corner of Carla's mouth and spills down in a rich crimson rivulet down the girl's torso. Reagan feels a hint of jealousy, wishing that she was the one feeling Carla's dark kiss right now.

Carla withdraws her fangs and sits back in her chair, eyes closed, gently touching her blood stained lips and catching her breath. Reagan is disappointed. I think I really did want to see Carla kill the girl she thinks, her stomach dropping.

"I really can't describe how good it feels... To feed on life itself" Carla says slowly, blood dripping slightly from the corners of her mouth, her fangs red with blood. The air is filled with the metallic tang of the girl's fluid. Carla opens her eyes and stares at Reagan. Reagan doesn't know what possesses her to do this, but she reaches out, her fingertips touching the twin puncture wounds in the girl's breast. Her fingertips coated in the viscous red liquid, she brings them to her tongue, tasting the girl's vital essence. Reagan sees Carla grinning, sharp teeth on display.

Reagan feels like she's lost control of herself, unable to explain her actions. Or maybe that's just what she is telling herself, because that fiction is more convenient than the truth of what's happening. Reagan bends down, sealing her lips over the wound in the girl's breast. She suckles, coaxing the girl's blood into her mouth. Once she has a mouthful, she raises her head, to see Carla regarding her curiously. Reagan, presumptuously, leans in for a kiss.

Reagan and Carla kiss passionately, sharing the girl's blood as Carla caresses Reagan's neck, holding her in place. Carla drinks the girl's blood from Reagan's mouth, suckling on Reagan's bloody tongue. Reagan feels Carla's sharp fangs tugging on her lips. Reagan knows this is wrong. Twisted. Disgusting. But it feels so right.

She wants more.