The Nightlife: New York - Chapter 6

Aaron stood beside Michelle on the roof of her apartment building, looking out over the city lights, breathing in the smells, listening to the night sounds of passing cars and people living normal lives. The night sky-line and rooftops glowed with illumination. With his superb night vision, he saw everything, almost clear as day.

Looking down from on high, he felt divorced from the human race, an outsider peeking in windows but never entering within. He’d felt this way before, especially after his father’s death, but now it was real. He was truly disconnected from humanity.

The tangs of city life in all their ripe flavor drifted on the air; remnants of meals cooked, unwashed sweaty bodies, sewer vents and auto exhaust. He took it all in, identifying each scent with the understanding that he would never again be mired in such things, human things. It was exciting, but equally intimidating. He had no one in the world but this strange woman he called Master. His father had been gone for years, and his mother bailed on him shortly thereafter. Relations with Kyle and Delia and all those other people who were once a significant part of his life couldn’t continue. He was detached from the world and all its problems, and it felt … good.

A great weight had lifted from his shoulders. He was free, all expectations gone. No one to answer to, no one to buy beer for, no one except Michelle. She reminded him of this new weight of expectation as she squeezed his hand demanding attention.

She’d brought them to the roof but hadn’t bothered to explain why. “Now is a good time to learn how your new body moves. Is purely instinctual. Don’t think too much. Watch me. I go first, then is your turn.”

She slipped off her expensive designer heels, shoved them in her purse, and did the craziest thing ever. She stepped off the roof of her twenty story apartment building and landed gracefully on the fire escape catwalk two stories below. No ceremony, no warning. She touched down with virtually no impact from her landing.

Michelle continued doing the impossible by leaping across the alleyway, flying fifty feet through the air. She gradually descended in a graceful arc until she landed on the wall of the neighboring concrete building. As she hit with her bare feet, she crouched into the impact and vaulted off the wall back out into the alley for another graceful arc of descent. She glided down at an angle into a textbook perfect landing at the fire escape catwalk outside her apartment window. With each artfully executed maneuver she descended lower and lower as though traveling down a mountain switch-back trail.

After all that, she had the audacity to lean out over the catwalk railing and look up at him with an innocent smile. “Now is your turn.”

Stunned into silence, he stood in awe, a dumb expression plastered on his face. She was a fucking Jedi. Spider Woman, Cat Woman, and the Black Widow all rolled into one. How could she expect him to do that shit?

When he regained the ability to speak he protested loudly, “No. Fucking. Way!”

She had that I’m-not-playing-with-you-Imbécile look.

“Maybe this is another one of those situations where I’m not quite ready. There’s no way I can do that.” He tried to reason with her.

“You can do this, no problème. Your body knows how to move. Is like breathing. Don’t think!” She smiled again. Wonder Woman hadn’t even broken a sweat. She waited for him with an expectant look.

“No way José. No can do.” He shook his head. A dread sensation settled in the pit of his gut. She’s fucking serious. She really wanted him to jump. Her impatience with him broadcast over their psychic bond. He sensed what she was about to do a split second before she did it. That was all the warning he got.

“Jump now and follow me!” Her voice resonated with that strange timbre of command and he jumped off the side of a twenty story building involuntarily.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiit!”

Much to his surprise, he made a decent landing on the catwalk below, same as Michelle. The thirty-foot drop felt like nothing. Continuing with the follow in my steps command, he leapt across to the neighboring building, descending in an arc. He basically followed Michelle’s path, but had underestimated his strength. He hit the wall feet first and the cement cracked a ten-foot-wide spider-web. He launched off the wall exactly as she had, mimicking her movements and following her path of descent, but a large piece of concrete dislodged behind him and fell to the alley below. He was far more powerful than he knew.

In his final maneuver, he miscalculated again, using too much force. Instead of landing on the catwalk gracefully, he plowed straight into her. She intercepted him with a spin and slammed him into the brick wall. His breath whooshed from his lungs with the bone-crushing thud of impact. He thought he heard something crack, maybe his back or the wall. And a couple ribs. Wheezing for air, he gritted his teeth through the sharp pains shooting across his back and chest.

“See, I told you. Next time, listen!” she snapped with a smug grin. “Stupid Americans. Think they know everything!” She spit in derision.

“Tu me pèles le jonc!” She let him know how much he was getting on her nerves in her not-so-cute-anymore French accent. With this she heaved Aaron over her shoulder and flung him out over the catwalk railing. He went flying into the alley, tumbling end-over-end, headed straight for the pavement. No forewarning. She’d cleverly concealed her intention to toss him like yesterday’s newspaper.

“Fuck me!”

He recovered quickly. As she tried to explain, he instinctively managed the fall. Like a cat with nine lives and inhuman agility, he twisted and turned in the air to bring his spinning momentum aligned for a feet first landing. He dropped into a tight crouch with the impact. His hands touched down on pavement for balance. A four story fall without injury.

“Come to me now!” Her compulsory command seized his body and he moved instantly.

He leaped high into the air, snatched the bottom rung of the ladder twelve feet off the ground, and scaled the fire escape. He pounded up the stairways at a breakneck velocity any fireman would be proud to witness. Within seconds he reached Michelle on the fourth story catwalk. The little blonde psycho welcomed him with a smile.

Breathing hard, he watched her with trepidation. She almost killed him twice in the span of minutes. He couldn’t decide whether to laugh, scream, cry, or beg.

As she opened the window to let him into her living room, she mocked him. “Est-ce que tu as le démon de midi?” Having a mid-life crisis? She watched him closely, gauging how he handled the situation. Her unblinking, piercing gaze unsettled him. Up in his face, she confronted him. “You must trust me. No more defiance.”

A million things running through his mind, he clamped his mouth shut and diverted his eyes away from her blatant challenge. She pushed him into an impossible corner. He kept his head down, waiting for her next psychotic move.

She pulled his chin up to look at her once more. “This is your time for learning.”

He nodded quietly. The flick of her chin indicated he follow her inside through the window. He stepped through after her, then closed the window behind them. Nervous and unsure of his place in her world, he sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the wall.

He fought to still his shaking hands and understand this new paradigm, the sickening control she held over him … and the callous way she used it. She went about the apartment doing this and that, girly things like lighting candles and picking up his shoes to tuck them away in the closet … as if they were a normal couple living together. The psycho kept busy with a slight smirk on her face, letting him calm down, waiting to see how he dealt with her insane control of his life.

He sensed this was another test. She was looking for signs of his rebellion, ready to pounce on his defiance.

Steeped in the scents of her perfume and other distinctive feminine odors, he refused to give her what she expected. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, letting his tensions flow away. He stilled his shaking hands against her bed spread and tried to reconcile his new reality.

He was a blood-sucking vampire with amazing strength and agility, and some interesting talents for seduction. He had exceptionally acute senses and could even read minds. He was a slave to the will of his gorgeous––sociopath––vampire master. He didn’t trust her for a minute, and he had quickly learned to fear her power over him. But how did he feel?

Stuck.

He opened his eyes and tracked her movements around the apartment, fascinated by this strange, alluring, dangerous creature. He was stuck on Michelle, and stuck with her.

She seduced him effortlessly every time she purred in that alluring-irritating-sexy-maddening accent. Despite the hundred-plus reasons he should keep distance from her, it was too late. That war had been lost before it began.

Love at first sight.

Whether she was a guardian angel saving his life or a psychotic demon throwing him off the side of a building, it didn’t matter. He was fascinated with her, couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had him right where she wanted. Not a damn thing he could do about it. She owned his body, heart, and soul … and she hadn’t even fucked him yet. Of course, she didn’t see him the same way. He was a defiant vampire trainee, a liability.

He concealed his feelings deep in his mental vault. No advantage in wearing his ridiculous heart on his sleeve. He might be her slave, but he wasn’t without pride.

The chances of them ever sharing an equal footing together were nil. He had to find a way to live with the steep imbalance of their relationship … indefinitely.

She slipped up on him quietly, and her fingers traced a pattern over his shoulder, sending a zing straight to his groin. “I did not hurt you.” Her fingers danced under the hair at the nape his neck, an entrancing sensation. Her emerald gaze forced him to face the truth. “Let me teach you, Aaron.” She wasn’t all psycho. Somewhere in this little blonde firecracker hid a woman who seemed to care about him.

“Fine. What’s the next lesson?”

She gave him her Helen of Troy smile that could launch a thousand ships, sending them all to their demise. “Sex.”

He did a double take. “You just shoved me off the roof. I’m trying to get my head around all this … it’s not easy.”

She slipped in closer and straddled his left knee between her bare legs, looking down on him with that wicked grin that promised pleasures he’d never before imagined. Her chest inches away from his face, he could almost taste her hard nipples poking at him through the mostly-sheer fabric of her dress. His mind filled with the wonderful possibilities of her blatant proposition.

After a minute of silence, her hands in his hair, patiently waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass, he forced himself to speak coherently. “Look, I’ll admit jumping off the roof was exciting and kind of fun and … I don’t have a scratch on me so … I guess there’s no harm, no foul.”

She nodded with his words, smirking at his foolish complaints. “We are going to have sex now?” She curled her fingers through his hair seductively, massaging his scalp in wonderful little circles. “I promise I will not order you around … this time … Ça va?” She gave him her most innocent look while wrapping her arms around him to press his face against her soft, lovely breasts.

“If you insist.” he mumbled into her cleavage. He couldn’t say no, didn’t even want to say no. Why bother pretending? For once he was getting laid and didn’t have to beg or play any of Delia’s twisted games.

She wasn’t gonna force him … or so she said. Maybe that kind of force wouldn’t be horrible. Can’t rape the willing. Michelle took control of the situation when she pushed him back on the bed and slinked up into his lap. Without warning she lashed out and bit down hard into his neck. He wrapped around her and buried his teeth in her neck. An instinctive reaction.

She didn’t seem surprised … probably expecting it. Squeezed tightly in their parasitic embrace, he lost himself in the heavenly bliss of feeding and their shared venom-induced ecstasy. She released her bite and pulled on his hair, letting him know to let go of her neck. His vampire master purred her pleasure at him with her dress hiked up her hips, grinding her moist, hot crotch all over his leg.

“Oh, it has been too long. Only with vampires can it be … mmm … there’s nothing like it.” She licked his blood from her lips, humped his leg with her soft, wet pussy and caressed his hard cock from the outer bulge of his pants.

His mind whirled with the overwhelming power of her presence and touch. How the hell he’d found his way into the arms of an emerald-eyed goddess ... He could scarce believe his good fortune at being the object of Michelle’s seductions.

“You know, I’m not really experienced.” His hands wrapped around her perfect ass, the retarded words had slipped from his mouth without any thought. His venom-saturated loins spoke before his brain kicked in. He mentally ordered himself to shut-the-fuck-up.

“Oui. No problème. I will teach you everything. Trust me and learn.”

As if he had a choice. As if he could ever deny her seductions.

She pulled away from him to unbutton his pants with quick, deft movements. The girl was a pro.

As she tugged on his pants, she explained, “I know how the world sees French women. They say we are sexually liberated. Oui?”

He nodded slowly and lifted his hips to help her remove the black, silky boxer shorts she had given him to wear just a few short hours ago. He watched her strip his clothing, uncertain what she meant by her admission.

“In truth, we are very traditional. We like old-fashioned courtesies. Comprends?”

He nodded again, entranced as she took his hand and pulled him off the bed to stand before her. Her hands quickly undid buttons and slid his shirt off his chest.

“I expect courtesy, always. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, changing light bulbs, unplugging the sink, answering phones to fend off telemarketers … sending flowers for no reason. Most important, you must allow me to orgasm first.”

“That’s the French way?” He swallowed with an audible gulp as he stood naked, slightly embarrassed. He had never been nude in front of a woman with the lights on, it was nerve-wracking.

“Oui. Classic European etiquette. This time I make an exception, for our lesson.”

Face to face, his erection damn near poking her in the belly, she took ahold of his cock and stroked him by hand. She knew exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, where he wanted it. She plucked it all straight from his mind. Within moments her two-hands worked him to a shuddering, explosive peak, robbing him of the ability to think or speak.

She gave him a minute to compose himself while cleaning her hands methodically with a wet wipe from her attached bathroom. Backlit from the bathroom light spilling into the bedroom, his golden angel shimmied out of her dress and stood before him in nothing but the tiniest pair of white thong panties. Her crotch was so wet he could see through the thin fabric. He grew rock hard all over again staring at her fabulous body. Through the damp, sheer material hugging her labia, he knew she was completely shaved.

She represented every ridiculous Hollywood-inspired fantasy he could recall. He’d jerked off to far less attractive swimsuit models.

“You are so amazingly beautiful.” He blurted it out like a lovesick idiot.

She worked the white strings of her panties down her hips and stepped up to greet him buck naked. His revitalized erection thumped against his belly.

“Now is my turn.”

She took his hand and directed his fingers down along her smooth, hard belly to the soft, glistening wet mound between her legs. Her delicate folds were warm, slick, swollen, flowing over his fingertips like liquid silk. His fingers inside her, she pulled him to the bed and laid out beneath him, her legs spread open. She curled her tight little pussy up and down, matching the stroke of his fingers. She took her sweet, loving time instructing him in great detail on all the key points of female anatomy that must be attended to and duly appreciated.

She taught him to taste and stroke her sensitive erogenous zones, each touch eliciting a corresponding musical sound from her lips. She opened her psychic link to reinforce her instructions, allowing him to feel her response to his hands, tongue and teeth.

“Oui, there … and here. Oui, oui! Faster, harder, don’t stop!”

He found the noises of her pleasure fascinating. She was not a quiet lover. “Oohh … Ahhh … OH! Aiieeee … Oooff … aarrggghh … Shoosh!” Michelle made wonderful French music with her moans, groans, and sighs––and the occasional growl or grunt.

Her hands gripped his wrist as she ground him inside her with two, three, even four of his fingers rammed into her tight heat. Going with her desires, he buried his lips and tongue in her delicious pussy. She clamped her hands in his hair, pulling on his neck. Her heels hooked over his shoulders, she fucked his face and fingers with grunts and squeals of enjoyment. No reservations. No inhibitions. Her crescendo finished in a screaming orgasm of, “Oooouuiii!”

After catching her breath, she pushed him aside and crawled over the top of him, shoving him down onto his back. Unsure what she planned next, he waited and watched her lick a drop of come from the head of his stiff shaft. She ran her lips and tongue up and down his cock, wetting him with her warm suction. Her delicate little tongue was fucking magical.

“Do you want to be on top?” His mouth never stopped proving his inexperience. He again ordered himself to shut-the-fuck-up.

Fangs fully extended, she grinned with gleaming white teeth and licked her lips. “Bien sûr.”

She moved up face to face in a flash. Legs open, eyes staring deep into his soul, she impaled her hot slippery channel all the way down onto him in one smooth move. His sex goddess took everything he had like a champ. She rode him with the endless stamina and enthusiasm of veteran porn-stars, gliding up and down, popping and grinding her hips to get every inch of him. Soon her pace and force reached hard-pounding, pelvis-crushing slams. Her inhuman strength and vigor hurt him, but the intensity of their dual climaxes wiped away everything.

Breathing heavily with a glazed smile on her face, her lips still wet from sucking his cock, Michelle hauled him over to the side, rolling with him onto her back. He ended up on top with her legs locked around his ass in a professional wrestler’s hold. She bit him for a moment allowing her wonderful venom to engorge his arousal. He grew another full size erection inside her within seconds. Without speaking a word she used their psychic bond to instruct him in a series of deep, hard, grinding penetrations. She taught him all the angles she wanted to be fucked from this position. She showed him exactly where, how fast, how hard, and rewarded him with little squeals and grunts as he nailed that special place inside her.

Michelle settled the infamous G-spot debate when she gripped his ass and screamed with her orgasm, urging him to keep hitting her right there, exactly where she needed it. They screwed hard and deep, fast, then slow, grinding and bucking, her hips meeting his every thrust. She used her bite over and over to stiffen his cock, spurring him on with her cries of ecstasy … until his shaking arms could barely hold his weight and his abused erection ached with every thrust.

“Please … let’s take a break … it hurts,” he admitted with his head buried in her breasts, fighting to catch his breath after the umpteenth round of sex. She purred beneath him, a live-wire of sexual energy, still grinding her powerful hips to stroke the last bit of enjoyment from his cock.

She pulled his head up to catch his eyes and gave him another of her glorious smiles. “D’accord. Is good for now. We have time for more lessons tomorrow night.” She unlocked her legs from around his ass, the signal that he was free to rest. He collapsed on top of her, unable and unwilling to move.

* * * *

In the morning just before sunrise, exhausted and tangled together in bed after hours of blood-sucking-mind-blowing sex, Michelle let her mind wander. Planted between her legs and sleeping on her chest, Aaron was never far from her thoughts. She knew he was infatuated with her. He couldn’t hide it. But he was so young, and such things are common with inexperienced men. Her fingers played with his hair absent-mindedly as he slept soundly, his beautiful face buried in her breasts.

Yes … she might eventually develop some sentiment for him.

He had a certain boyish charm, so guileless. He lacked any of the artful deceptions men used to pursue her affections. The boy didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. Those two points alone were enough to hold her attention. Such men were a rare find in this culture of selfish, artificial personalities. Though too naïve, Aaron was genuine.

He was fresh and clean, uncontaminated by Manhattan decadence. Only a matter of time before these qualities she admired would dissipate. Life always stripped away luxuries like innocence and naiveté. She would lose this fresh young man eventually. She intended to fully enjoy him while it lasted. A pleasant change from the men she normally met in her line of work.

Her main concern was to avoid any attachment to him. She couldn’t afford to get too close. If he turned sour and violent, like her former master, she’d be forced to deal with it. She couldn’t allow her feelings to sway her judgment. She had to stay objective about killing him. For the meantime, she was willing to discount her lingering attraction to him as nothing more than the sated after-effects of awesome sex.

She wasn’t willing to examine her feelings in depth. Seemed wiser to maintain his fear and respect, keeping strong emotions out of the equation. Sex, for her, was not complicated, especially with Aaron. Unlike the weak humans, he could actually keep up with her demanding sexual needs.

However, commitments of the heart were very complicated. She had to maintain a delicate balance in their master-slave relationship without becoming overbearing and without strings of love tying her hands. It would be a challenge, but she was up to the task. Michelle prided herself on her rigid self-control.