Eighth reflection

“Nope, nothing,” Nasus told me before leaning back into the man’s crotch we were blowing to collect some more blood when I asked her if she had been experiencing the same visions I had.

At first, I was curious and kept looking into mirrors trying to get a glimpse of my human alter ego but then after a while, without any new visions, I completely forgot about them.

It has been six months, now, since I turned Nasus so I decided to treat her to a romantic dinner in a nice little lesbian club downtown. Funny thing, our respective sexual preferences have greatly widened since we got our fanged upgrade but we still carry some remnants of our former selves and I know for a fact that she still has a sweet tooth for girls. As for me, I suspect that, in my former life, I was a repressed bisexual which explains why I really do not give a shit what is hiding in the pants of my next meal.

The place is located in a former Chinese mafia sweatshop. The large cave built around the turn of the nineteenth century with old stone arches and rusting machinery was sold in auction after the network was dismantled by the FBI and bought by a collective of aggressive LGBTQ+ activists. It was then bought back by a nightclub entrepreneur and turned into the nice little joint it has become today.

The place is roughly divided into two major areas separated by two large bars, to your left a shitload of alcoves and to your right a gigantic dance floor riddled with podiums where the customers can shake their asses for the viewing pleasure of the other guests.

Nasus is, as always, quite eager to start the festivities.

“Who should we have first?” I ask her.

She looks around the dance floor for a short while.

“Her!” She tells me over the loud music pointing at a tall African American dancing on one of the podiums.

I smile and step into the dancing crowd to get my lover her first course. A few minutes later, the three of us are sitting in one of the alcoves. The brunette’s dress is torn and covered in blood, hers. I pet Nasus’ head as she finishes the girl.

Chin painted in red, she looks at me, glad and content. The black girl’s pink slit lets out a long whiff of satisfaction as she slowly drifts away in the valley of the shadow of ****.

“I want more…”

And more, we get… a petite Asian pale skinned beaut, sandwiched on the dance floor; a blonde cutie, drained by one of the bars in between vodka shots; a couple of butches fist fucked to **** in the alcoves, a tomboy and her exuberant girlfriend back on the dance floor romantically executed.

Much later into the night, we look around for a nightcap.

Eighth reflection

Nire is passionately kissing a nice-looking redhead sitting on the edge of the large sink of one of the gloomy bathrooms of the club. Her hand has lifted the girl’s skirt and is sliding between her ass cheeks. She gently teases the rim in order to slide a finger in once she moves in. Her partner’s wiggles seem to indicate that she appreciates the attention.

Behind her, one of the stall doors is open and Nasus is idly sucking on the neck of a sweet blonde.

Both vampires’ dresses are riddled with stains.

Nasus’ prey involuntarily kicks the door of the stall attracting the redhead’s attention. The kiss broken, Nire goes for the bite making her toy throw her head back in a mix of pain and pleasure.

The image blurs.

Human Nire is back. Her eyes are covered in tears. Her makeup is running all over her face. She sobs, looks up, grabs her bag and exits the bathroom.

The image blurs again.

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