The Nightlife: New York - Chapter 4

They began sitting cross-legged, face to face. Aaron couldn’t think of anything but Michelle. She wore a slip of a white dress, nothing more than a nightie. Inches away from him, her legs splayed wide, he appreciated every detail and contour of her inner thighs and skimpy white underwear. Utterly impossible to concentrate on anything she said.

“Please close your eyes!” she snapped at him with a knowing smirk on her face. “Picture me in your mind.”

Easy.

The curves of her breasts and thighs called to him and her devious little smile promised sex––lots of sex. Gradually his mind’s eye view of her changed. Not that the picture was different, but now he sensed something more. This beautiful hundred pound kitten exuded a power, a force of personality like a massive lioness. He caught her amusement. Not mocking him, more the pleasure derived from watching a child walk for the first time. She tested their connectivity in baby steps.

He hoped he didn’t botch it. He didn’t want to look the fool.

He concentrated further on the woman who resembled a lioness in human skin, and delved deep into her psyche. He sensed her attraction to him, her desire to both fuck and bite him at the same time. In the middle of her dueling desires was a vague memory of a faraway time. Shadows of another man, but not exactly a man. The shadows mixed together in a blend of longing, desire, and hatred. He caught a sense of violence, extreme violence, and sex.

Suddenly his mind slammed into a blank wall. He could perceive no emotion, no thought, only the image of Michelle accompanied by her powerful predatory nature held tightly under her iron control. He wondered what would happen if she lost control.

He heard her voice, but not with his ears. The sensation was so much more, replete with intent, an irresistible force of command. {{Imagine yourself, your mind, sealed within a steel box. Is like a vault. Picture your mind enclosed within a vault.}}

He did as she instructed, and instantly recognized a closure, a blocked layer of protection closing his mind off from the world around him.

{{Very good. Is easy for you.}} She spoke again directly in his mind, and he registered her approval and relief at his ability to do this the first time, without difficulty.

If he was blocked, how could he still hear her in his mind? Why wasn’t she blocked out? A sick feeling hit his gut as he began to suspect that maybe he would never enjoy privacy again. Doomed to a life where his every thought, no matter how petty and disgusting, his every sin was laid bare for her. Who could live like that? Could any man live every moment with perfect thoughts? He worked himself into a panic. In his distress, his mental vault failed completely.

“Michelle, how can I hear you if I’m inside my vault?”

“Aaron, ne t’inquiet pas, you were closed to me, your mind blocked.”

He interrupted, “But ...”

She spoke over the top of him. “But I can send to you. Don’t worry. Is always this way. I send to you. You send to me, when you want.” She sent him a calm feeling, letting him know she approved of him without reservation. He felt that same sense that everything was gonna be okay. It seemed to help. He relaxed and gradually grew embarrassed over his panic attack.

{{Try to reach me and read my thoughts. Test my block. You cannot read me when I choose to be private. Is the same with you.}} Her lips hadn’t moved from that quirky little half-smile. She’d spoken directly into his mind.

Trying hard to accept this game as reality, he focused his thoughts on her again. He hit a solid blank wall where her mind should have been. Nothing. Not a damn thing. He strained so hard, he leaned forward as he tried to push through their connection. He couldn’t read anything as she sat there smirking at him, pleased. So he pushed harder, concentrating on reaching with all his intensity. His mind washed over and around Michelle, engulfing her, but not finding a way in. He kept reaching out until he sensed others in the surrounding residences. Aaron touched on an older man, someone in his sixties whose mind was hazy with alcohol from the six pack of Bud Light he drank while camped in front of the TV. The old man’s mind was filled with speculations of football statistics and possible outcomes for the game.

As soon as Aaron noticed the man’s mind, he also became aware of the woman who slept in the bedroom of the same apartment a few yards away. Her mind was deeply shrouded in dreams, a cloudy world of images and feelings, something about her sister and her husband, the man watching football. She dreamt of the vague details of an illicit affair between her husband and her younger, more attractive, sister. Her emotions were in turmoil over the dream, a frenzied mix of anger, resentment, jealousy, and self-loathing for her inability to retain her husband’s attention and affections. She writhed in anxiety, fighting with her sheets and blankets.

Aaron reached out in other directions, seeking what else he might find. Completely absorbed in his psychic scanning, he had abandoned focusing on his own privacy block.

He touched on a teenage girl who chatted online with her boyfriend. She was typing frantically on her laptop, trying to justify her actions to her boyfriend. She had gone to a party with one of her girlfriends, drank too much, and ended up in the bedroom with another guy. She didn’t want her boyfriend to know how far things had actually gone, but someone had posted a photo on Facebook…

Michelle snatched his attention away from his ramblings with a psychic push. Her mind shoved his mind, a very disorienting experience. He grabbed for something, reaching out with his hands to stabilize himself on the carpet. He felt off balance, dizzy, but she hadn’t touched him.

Her psychic push transmitted flashes of surprise, anger, and envy before she slipped back behind the blank wall of her mental vault. He remembered himself and refocused on his own mental vault, reestablishing his privacy.

She stood abruptly. “You were reading the neighbors, oui?” She gave him a raised eyebrow, looking down on him. “You are very good at this game. Enough practice for tonight.”

He must have shared his encounters with the neighbors with her. He would have to learn to multitask, to maintain his mental vault while scanning others nearby. Probably like trying to chew gum, pat your head, and rub your belly all at once. Not impossible, but tricky.

“Why didn’t you tell me I could do that?”

Her irritation leaked through their emotional ties, her eyes flashed in anger. “I did not …”

“You didn’t know?” He spoke over the top of her when he realized the truth. His ability was unique.

“Non,” she snapped curtly.

He swelled with pride, a childish feeling of superiority and wonder at this magnificent new existence. Ahhh. What new experiences, as yet undiscovered, this life might hold for him…

“I see auras, like a special color.” She swirled her fingers around her head. “But I cannot read minds … apart from yours.” She flashed her eyes again, a petty demand for submission.

He sensed her aggression held in check. The little lioness was testing him to see if he would take the bait and rise up … only to be slapped down. Reeling with the rush of this new life, he backed down from her challenge. He dropped his eyes, a universal sign of submission. He stayed seated while she stared him down, standing over him like a master ready to whip her slave for taking undue liberties.

After a moment of glaring without catching a rise, Michelle softened. “You have a right to be intrigued. Pourquoi est-ce que je dois être celui avec le gamin spécial?”

He barely understood her. She’d said something about getting stuck with the special boy. Special like the kids on the short bus.

She reached out to pull him up. “The aura shows me moods and personalities. I knew things from your aura the night we met. I knew those police were filthy, corrupt, and they would create many problemes … but I did not know they would shoot you. I do not read minds, or see the future.” She seemed apologetic as he stood to face her.

“No more conflict.” With this she returned to the role of benevolent master. Michelle placed her hands on his head, holding him straight, directing his eyes into her gaze. She restarted her instruction with the basics of mesmerizing people through eye contact and subtle commands

“It is magnétisme animal. Is natural we attract the prey. We are predators.” She stared unblinking, drawing him in with her entrancing vivid green eyes. He felt her looking down into his soul. She owned him with nothing more than her gaze. She broke the eye contact and yet again left him with a feeling of child-like inadequacy.

She spoke reassuringly, “You will see tonight. Women will come to you. Easy prey.” She spoke as though it was a normal, everyday thing to hunt people, like animals in the wild.

“When feeding, there is a chemical, une médicament puissant. Is like strong drugs.” She opened her mouth inhumanly wide. Her jaw unhinged, a beast that would swallow him whole. Her painted nails touched at her elongated canines tapering to razor sharp little points. He stepped back out of her reach, fear and morbid fascination dueling to keep him in place.

Her strange manner of speaking was confusing, but he had a pretty good guess what she was talking about. “You mean like the venom of a snake?”

She snapped her mouth shut as if it had never happened. “Exactement. Our venom helps heal bite marks, no scarring.” She smiled wickedly. “The bite gives much pleasure.”

She stepped towards him, recovering the lost distance. She slipped her hand over his jaw, a seductive caress. “Prolonged bites will bring them fast.” She shook her closed fist in the air as though jacking him off, smirking all the while. “Is too easy.” She winked.

“But remember, never feed more than a minute. Absolutely never more than two minutes. Is very dangerous. You must take great care, until you learn control.”

He nodded acceptance, but didn’t have a clue how he’d stop once he started. Her words invoked a wicked hunger. He wanted to snatch up her wrist and sink his teeth in again. He wanted to feed now, not in ten minutes, not for one minute, and not in the hours they would waste cruising around town. He wanted it right this second! He wanted to drain someone dry of every last drop, and then tear into their flesh and squeeze it for more.

“Come, I will show you everything. Watch, listen, and learn, oui?” She smiled, disarming his apprehensions. She made it difficult to think of anything beyond her angelic face inches from him.

As the idea sunk in that they were actually planning to go out on the town to feed, Aaron suddenly remembered his job at Bemichis. “Oh shit, I’ve gotta be at work tonight, I’m late. I’m scheduled to work all week. Bemichi is gonna kill me!” Panic struck hard. He couldn’t reconcile all she had told him with his former life. He tried to step away from her, to make for the door.

“Stop!” With her hands securely clamped on his head, her command halted him in place.

That’s exactly what he did. Stop. Frozen solid. Panic tore through his chest with an explosion of adrenaline. He wanted to move, to run, to do something other than stand there, but his body wouldn’t obey. She seized him dead in his tracks. His eyes could move, swirl around back and forth, side to side, up and down, but his body wouldn’t do a damn thing. It was like being cast in concrete. He couldn’t move, but he could talk.

“Please let me go. Please. I promise I won’t do anything if you just let me go.” He was heading over the edge of the abyss, staring into the bottomless well of madness. All reasoning washed away in the flush of anxiety.

“Silence!” she ordered him again, robbing him of the last aspect of his free will, the power of speech. “You have been unconscious through the change. Four nights have passed since I gave you my blood. You have been dead to the world all this time.” She gradually released her iron grip over his body. The chains of her constrictive will lifted from all around him. She let go of his face and took a step back. He knew she waited to see if he would lose it or accept the unpleasant reality of her domination.

He mumbled quietly, “Thank you.”

He feared she might use her force of compulsion again. He had a heightened awareness of the slightest nuance of her displeasure that might cause a loss of his freedom of movement. Life on eggshells.

Watching him warily, she spoke in her weird, enigmatic way, “The world you once knew is no more for you.”

It was so true. The freedom he once knew was gone. There were finite limits to Michelle’s patience. He took in the lesson and nodded silently.

Michelle wrapped her arm around his and walked him to the door of the bedroom, keeping him close at hand. He stood gawking as she pulled off her nightie, wearing nothing but paper-thin white panties. This Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, virtually naked in front of him, rifled through her closet as if he wasn’t watching her every sinuous movement. She didn’t need to command him to stay, stop or whatever. She held his rapt attention with her perfectly sculpted body.

Heedless of her nudity, she gave him another tidbit of advice. “Don’t concern yourself with anything else. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on me, on my instructions.” He nodded like an idiot, barely hearing her words while she squirmed her Playboy perfect curves into designer clothing worth more than his entire wardrobe.

She had picked a gossamer silver, sleeveless dress, the loose fabric bunched at her hips, continuing a few more inches down as a skin-tight skirt barely covering the bottom curve of her ass. Braless, her delightful pink nipples perked up, clearly visible through the almost sheer material. The effect was stunning. He would gladly do anything she asked.

In the elevator, her arm entwined around his, Michelle gave him that same sly smile, silently hinting at pleasures yet to come. Despite all the negative associations of her control over his life, he buzzed with anticipation and arousal.

In the hallways of her apartment building, he noted the nineties décor, upscale for its time, now outdated. Michelle had some money, but not too much. Definitely not Park Avenue. Despite the need for upgrades, her place was a huge step up from the telephone booth apartment he shared with Kyle. Much roomier and classier than anything he could afford. He guessed Michelle’s one-bedroom suite cost her several thousand a month.

In the taxi––making their way out into the New York nightlife––he spoke in hushed tones. “Michelle, I don’t want to hurt people. Will they die from the feeding? Is it violent? Painful? What if I can’t stop? What if I kill someone by accident?” She cupped his face in her hands, giving him a radiant smile. His concerns drifted away under her influence and he submitted to the truth. He was utterly lost in her eyes. Her powerful physical presence, so close and intimate, eroded away his worries.

“That is so sweet. Très mignon. Listen, and do not worry. I am not a murderer. Not tonight. We drink only a small sip. Un apéritif, oui? Like shots of whiskey. No need to hurt anyone. Actually, they enjoy this very much. You will see. I promise.”

He nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. His tensions flowed out through her magical fingertips.