One Full Moon
One.
If someone else mentions that piece of literary crap, I think to myself, stepping on a sodden cover of Twilight that lay abandoned on the ground, I'm not sure I could restrain myself from snapping their neck in half. Vampires that sparkle, what a load of shit. I think I’d kill myself if my skin started to shine like that. Then again, maybe it’s better that Meyer messed up the public image of vampires so bad. Makes it easier for me to stay unnoticed.
I shake my head to free the water clinging to my dark brown mess of tangled hair, my boots and Motley Crue jacket keeping the rain off everything else. The street is deserted and lonely, only one other person daring to stay outside and brave the cold and the wet. This is exactly the woman I’m looking for. Fishnet stockings run up her legs, eventually hidden under the red cotton of her barely-there dress. Scarlet lipstick, matching her clothes, stains the tip of her cigarette as she inhales. Glaring at me underneath dark makeup and long eyelashes, she asks, “Are you interested, or did you just come to watch, doll?”
Glancing over my shoulder to ensure that the street is, in fact, empty except for the pair of us, I flash a smile at her, which she doesn’t return. “I wonder if you could accompany me back to my apartment, out of the chill and the rain.” I can't help but flourish my Spanish accent, just the smallest bit. She purses her lips and looks me over before dropping her cigarette and crushing it with her stiletto heels. Completely unnecessary, as it had gone out the moment it had fallen onto the water-doused ground.
The rain falls lightly and gently as she follows me wordlessly, her heels clunking against the ground in a calming rhythmic pattern. The sound lulls me into dull thoughts, not really concentrating on anything but the feeling of moisture on my face as I lead her to the spot where I've parked the motorcycle I've borrowed for the night. Truthfully, the owner of the bike has no idea I have it, but he'll have it back in perfect condition by tomorrow morning.
She speaks for the first time since we started walking as I place my hand on the handlebar. "I'm not riding that." Her hazel eyes are wide and fearful, her stilettos lightly scraping against the sidewalk as she steps back. I smile at her and move away from the bike.
"You have nothing to fear from my driving, I assure you." I pause. "But, we can walk if you want to. It's not far." She nods quickly, her eyes never leaving the glossy black surface of the bike's exterior. I sigh softly, running a hand over the black seat. I know I'll have to buy one of my own soon, as I seem to have fallen in love with it- driving so smoothly and quietly that it might as well have been gliding along the dark pavement, lifting my curly hair in the wind-
Yes, I must have this bike. Eventually. Tonight, I have things to do.
It's not long before we reach my apartment, though we catch the disapproving eye of a few people in the elevator- the type of people who can't seem to keep their noses attached to their own faces for more than five seconds. I'm sure she notices, but doesn't seem to care, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder in disdain until we reach my floor and depart. She seems much more comfortable now, her jaw relaxed instead of pursed.
"I didn't catch your name," I note as she makes herself comfortable on my couch. I turn my back to her and walk into the part of the apartment designated as the kitchen area. I can feel her eyes on the back of my head as I compare bottles of wine and champagne.
"Scarlet. Do you have one, or should I just call you Doll?"
"Me llamo Armando." Alright, so maybe I'm showing off. Just the smallest bit.
"You speak Spanish, then, Armando?" I try not to wince at her faked accent, though the sound makes me want to throttle her. She's slaughtering the beauty of my language. "I like that in a man." Her breath is so thick that she might as well be purring. With the many prostitutes I've been with, I like this Scarlet the least. Everything about her aggravates me. Suddenly, I find myself waiting for the end of the night- but until then, I might as well have my fun.
"Ah, well, uno idioma nunca es suficiente. One language is never enough." I bring her a glass of one of my cheaper alcohols, having decided I'm not going to waste any of my finer drinks on her. She stands up and walks towards me, taking the glass in one hand and grabbing the collar of my jacket in the other, pulling me closer to her with her bright red lips curled into a playful smile. I grin back and lead her back to the couch, pressing my lips to the soft skin of her neck, making her giggle.
"It's time to show you a good time, Doll."
-
The pale moonlight streams through my window as I gaze through it, marveling at the clearness of the sky. Not a single cloud remains suspended in the air, and the only thing to suggest that it had ever rained was the patches of water that darkened the streets and sidewalks- that, and the sodden dress that lay abandoned on my floor.
I was careful not to spill a drop of blood on my white carpet. Not only would it leave a terrible stain, but it would be such a waste not to drain every last drop of the scarlet fluid running through her veins. She did taste terrible, though- I should be careful to choose a purer victim next time, one whose blood is not tainted by drugs and alcohol and, really, such a horrible personality.
Oh well, I think. She wasn't bad at her job, and that, at least, was something. It's easier when the sex is consensual- though I do find a certain satisfaction in it when it is forced. I turn away from the window and gaze upon her broken body, pale and sunken in- weak and frail-looking.
"Sorry, Doll," I say, taking her wrist in my hand and slicing a line across it, leaving a wound that might cause someone to assume she took her own life- not that it will matter, once I dispose of her properly. I place two fingers in the trail of blood that leaks from the fresh cut and press it against her lips, staining them the scarlet colour that gave her her name.
"I really would love to stay and chat," I say, turning away and heading towards the door, "but I have a motorcycle to return."
I shake my head to free the water clinging to my dark brown mess of tangled hair, my boots and Motley Crue jacket keeping the rain off everything else. The street is deserted and lonely, only one other person daring to stay outside and brave the cold and the wet. This is exactly the woman I’m looking for. Fishnet stockings run up her legs, eventually hidden under the red cotton of her barely-there dress. Scarlet lipstick, matching her clothes, stains the tip of her cigarette as she inhales. Glaring at me underneath dark makeup and long eyelashes, she asks, “Are you interested, or did you just come to watch, doll?”
Glancing over my shoulder to ensure that the street is, in fact, empty except for the pair of us, I flash a smile at her, which she doesn’t return. “I wonder if you could accompany me back to my apartment, out of the chill and the rain.” I can't help but flourish my Spanish accent, just the smallest bit. She purses her lips and looks me over before dropping her cigarette and crushing it with her stiletto heels. Completely unnecessary, as it had gone out the moment it had fallen onto the water-doused ground.
The rain falls lightly and gently as she follows me wordlessly, her heels clunking against the ground in a calming rhythmic pattern. The sound lulls me into dull thoughts, not really concentrating on anything but the feeling of moisture on my face as I lead her to the spot where I've parked the motorcycle I've borrowed for the night. Truthfully, the owner of the bike has no idea I have it, but he'll have it back in perfect condition by tomorrow morning.
She speaks for the first time since we started walking as I place my hand on the handlebar. "I'm not riding that." Her hazel eyes are wide and fearful, her stilettos lightly scraping against the sidewalk as she steps back. I smile at her and move away from the bike.
"You have nothing to fear from my driving, I assure you." I pause. "But, we can walk if you want to. It's not far." She nods quickly, her eyes never leaving the glossy black surface of the bike's exterior. I sigh softly, running a hand over the black seat. I know I'll have to buy one of my own soon, as I seem to have fallen in love with it- driving so smoothly and quietly that it might as well have been gliding along the dark pavement, lifting my curly hair in the wind-
Yes, I must have this bike. Eventually. Tonight, I have things to do.
It's not long before we reach my apartment, though we catch the disapproving eye of a few people in the elevator- the type of people who can't seem to keep their noses attached to their own faces for more than five seconds. I'm sure she notices, but doesn't seem to care, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder in disdain until we reach my floor and depart. She seems much more comfortable now, her jaw relaxed instead of pursed.
"I didn't catch your name," I note as she makes herself comfortable on my couch. I turn my back to her and walk into the part of the apartment designated as the kitchen area. I can feel her eyes on the back of my head as I compare bottles of wine and champagne.
"Scarlet. Do you have one, or should I just call you Doll?"
"Me llamo Armando." Alright, so maybe I'm showing off. Just the smallest bit.
"You speak Spanish, then, Armando?" I try not to wince at her faked accent, though the sound makes me want to throttle her. She's slaughtering the beauty of my language. "I like that in a man." Her breath is so thick that she might as well be purring. With the many prostitutes I've been with, I like this Scarlet the least. Everything about her aggravates me. Suddenly, I find myself waiting for the end of the night- but until then, I might as well have my fun.
"Ah, well, uno idioma nunca es suficiente. One language is never enough." I bring her a glass of one of my cheaper alcohols, having decided I'm not going to waste any of my finer drinks on her. She stands up and walks towards me, taking the glass in one hand and grabbing the collar of my jacket in the other, pulling me closer to her with her bright red lips curled into a playful smile. I grin back and lead her back to the couch, pressing my lips to the soft skin of her neck, making her giggle.
"It's time to show you a good time, Doll."
-
The pale moonlight streams through my window as I gaze through it, marveling at the clearness of the sky. Not a single cloud remains suspended in the air, and the only thing to suggest that it had ever rained was the patches of water that darkened the streets and sidewalks- that, and the sodden dress that lay abandoned on my floor.
I was careful not to spill a drop of blood on my white carpet. Not only would it leave a terrible stain, but it would be such a waste not to drain every last drop of the scarlet fluid running through her veins. She did taste terrible, though- I should be careful to choose a purer victim next time, one whose blood is not tainted by drugs and alcohol and, really, such a horrible personality.
Oh well, I think. She wasn't bad at her job, and that, at least, was something. It's easier when the sex is consensual- though I do find a certain satisfaction in it when it is forced. I turn away from the window and gaze upon her broken body, pale and sunken in- weak and frail-looking.
"Sorry, Doll," I say, taking her wrist in my hand and slicing a line across it, leaving a wound that might cause someone to assume she took her own life- not that it will matter, once I dispose of her properly. I place two fingers in the trail of blood that leaks from the fresh cut and press it against her lips, staining them the scarlet colour that gave her her name.
"I really would love to stay and chat," I say, turning away and heading towards the door, "but I have a motorcycle to return."