Brooke watched with building lust, having never seen Vendela’s naked body so clearly and thrilling at the possibilities a hot tub might open in their repertoire. She dropped her own robe and followed. The water, indeed the air above the water, teetered on the edge of being uncomfortably hot. When the entire room began rolling toward the ceiling, and the ceiling opened onto the most brilliantly vivid starry night sky Brooke had ever seen, she began to figure out why the hot tub water had to be so hot. The open air of the arctic winter was twenty or thirty below zero, and though the jets in the hot tub swirled the nearly-scalding water in such a way that the air just a few feet above the water remained hot, Brooke knew full-well the water would freeze to her skin in a matter of seconds if she got out of the hot tub when it locked fully into place atop the tallest spire on the already towering mansion.
Brooke huddled, almost entirely submerged, with just enough of her face above the water to breathe through her nose. Vendela, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the hot tub, hands splayed out slightly to her sides, tickling the water, her head thrown back, staring up at the aurora borealis snaking its way across the inky black sky like color-shifting ribbons.
“Brooke,” Vendela said. “I want to give you something—something very, very…bewildering.”
With Vendela’s expert hands to guide her body, made nearly weightless in the bubbling water, Brooke found herself arranged in one of the chiseled seats of the hot tub with her legs spreading around Vendela and her head tilted comfortably back to watch the bands of color and light drifting across the star-filled sky. She felt Vendela’s hands teasing their way up her inner thigh followed closely by soft, heart shaped lips, kissing a trail to her pussy. Brooke gasped, arched her back, which was also a surprisingly comfortable position in the built in seat, and reached a hand down between her legs to gently caress the silky hair along the side of Vendela’s head. Vendela’s small, agile tongue, which Brooke had gotten to know quite well over the past two months, both with her own tongue and almost the entirety of her body, was in rare form that night, as though it were coated in moving silk. The delicate work along her inner lips, the taunting tonguing, and toe-curling flicks across her clit all had a little something extra that Brooke couldn’t quite describe other than to say it felt fluid and smoother than normal.
Vendela hadn’t ever said as much, their lovemaking sessions always transpiring without so much as a word from either of them, but Brooke had long ago come to the conclusion, that Vendela not only enjoyed going down on her, but that she put the same artistic verve into it that she did with designing and sewing clothing. Brooke felt her first orgasm as a tremble, between her belly button and her clit, spread out from there slowly, at first, before shooting like lightening up her spine and down her legs in an intense, rolling wave. Her scream of pleasure dissipated into the frigid, Alaskan air. Vendela continued, teased open Brooke’s lips with two finger tips, adding a nudging pinky knuckle beneath her throbbing clit to give traction when she pressed her tongue flat across the top and forced the hood back. Her second orgasm came quickly, only a few swipes from Vendela’s talented tongue, when countered by her deft pinky, and Brooke was writhing in the steamy water as though on fire.
Brooke’s heart pounded in her chest in an adrenaline-fueled way she hadn’t even managed when riding twenty-foot curls in waters teaming with great white sharks. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t come down from the euphoric high brought about by Vendela’s near thirty-minute tongue bath of her now entirely too sensitive pussy…but then, that was weird too.
Brooke looked down to the entirely submerged Vendela, who, with her winter sunlight hair drifting beneath the water like bands of gold and her artistically white curves floating just above the bottom, must have been breathing water for the better part of the last half-hour. Brooke grabbed her by the arms and pulled her face out of the water. A few wet, errant strands of hair fell across Vendela’s vacant features—they looked at each other blankly.
“What the hell…?” Brooke asked incredulously, when Vendela refused to speak first.
“Brooke,” Vendela said. “I told you I was going to show you something…confusing.” She slid up Brooke’s body and planted a long, lingering, chlorine flavored kiss on her lips.
Brooke pulled away, not in revulsion, but more because the kiss was muddling her thinking, and making her want to do things to Vendela that wouldn’t necessarily involve getting any sort of explanation, although might involve some mild forms of spanking.
“You taste like pool water.”
“Yeah,” Vendela said. “So does everything…down there.”
Things started making a lot more sense, all the little mysteries and revelations, along with the enormous freak-out of how Vendela had held her breath around ten or twenty times longer than was humanly possible, when Brooke saw Vendela’s fangs extending. She thought she saw the sun coming up for the first time in more than a month, breaking through the faint fog clinging to the glacial mountains far to the east, winter sun, like Vendela’s hair, as the hot tub descended back into the blackness of the mansion, and Vendela submerged herself in the water between Brooke’s legs.
She couldn’t quite say what she expected as the ceiling closed above her, giving her one last glimpse of the sky graying with the coming dawn, but Brooke wasn’t remotely surprised when she felt the pressure, followed by a stabbing pain as Vendela’s fangs sank into her inner thigh.
Haunted House on Top
Cami, who had been having fewer and fewer crazy episodes as of late, felt optimistic about Halloween despite the possible catastrophic mixing of schizophrenia and costumes. It was her first Halloween with her long distance girlfriend, Brianna, who would be driving down from New York for the occasion, as Cami had driven up for most other holidays to that point; being the only vampire in the relationship, it did only seem fitting that Cami be the one to decide on how they celebrated all hallows eve. Her Atrociously Gay Best Friend Forever, a.k.a. AGBFF, Lewis said he knew of a haunted house in old Alexandria that might be fun. He wasn’t going until much later, a hot date of his own, as he’d put it, but he’d sent the directions to her along with the password they would need to get in.
Lewis had also been the one to go costume shopping with her. Being a Napoleonic era vampire, with tastes in clothing toward the flamboyant, Lewis knew all of the best costume shops that were period accurate and open after dark. To his great disappointment, Cami had selected a Wonder Woman costume. Putting the costume on at home, alone, on Halloween night, Cami began to see the source of Lewis’s many complaints with the plan. She was thin, far too thin for her modest breasts to fill out the top of the one piece costume, and, while her legs did look smashing in the knee-high boots, the star-spangled backside of the costume seemed to have designs on finding its way up her behind. He said she would spend the evening picking patriotic wedgies, but she hadn’t quite followed what he meant by it until that point.
“Double-sided tape,” Melvin said from her perch on the edge of the bathtub. She was Cami’s second demon companion, a squat, round frog, covered in spikes, roughly the size of a basketball with an old woman’s voice that didn’t sound too dissimilar from Betty White.
“No, I’m Wonder Woman,” Cami replied, admiring the way the shiny material clung to her lithe curves. When she turned to examine the back, she had to grasp the blue fabric to pull it away from the center it was inching toward.
“She means for you to tape your costume to your ass, dummy,” Barry said from his higher perch on the tank of the toilet. He was her original demon, a product of her psychotic break, looking like the unholy spawn of a Chihuahua and a goat that was then dressed in footy pajamas and dipped in road tar.
Cami took the advice, and tape, from Melvin successfully anchoring the backside of her costume to her own backside. With her golden bracers in place, her lasso on her hip, and headband holding back her shoulder-length black hair, she felt as ready as she could.
Without a reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t be sure if she looked properly wondrous, but her two demons said she looked like a slutty American flag, which was precisely what she was going for. Cami finished applying her blood-red lipstick when the doorbell rang.
With a quick jog down the stairs, she flung the front door open to find Brianna on the steps dressed in what looked like a highly-impractical leather, armored dress. Brianna, who had been buxom before college, had put on just enough weight in her first year at university to be lusciously curvy in exciting new ways. Her long, thick Latina hair had been straightened to fall around her shoulders, although Cami’s attention gravitated toward the copious mounds of tan cleavage pushing out the top of the dress.
“That’s such a great…um…what are you?” Cami asked.
“Xena, Warrior Princess.” Brianna held up the little metal ring (which was actually plastic) on the side of her belt as if that would make it all clear. “From the TV show?”
“I’ve been dead and crazy for most of the last hundred years without access to a TV until very recently,” Cami said by way of explanation, “but if this is what a warrior princess looks like, I need to start watching.”
“The costume fit better in high school.”
“I like the way it fits now.”
They shared a knowing smile.
The drive, which was only a few blocks from Cami’s inherited estate, took a little longer than expected as Cami kept having to restrain herself from crawling across the Range Rover’s center console to sit on Brianna’s lap. When Brianna finally pointed out that Cami could survive a car accident that would likely kill her human girlfriend, Cami remained on her side of the car, with only her left hand making teasing trips over to stroke Brianna’s luscious thighs.
Once parked in front of the haunted house, which looked remarkably like any other house in the row of old colonials in the Tudor style, Cami unclipped her seatbelt and hopped across onto Brianna’s lap, straddling her in a fairly athletic maneuver. Cradling Brianna’s face between her hands, Cami kissed her, her lips cold and urgent against Brianna’s until her mouth opened far enough for Cami’s tongue to seek out Brianna’s tongue ring. Brianna’s hands found their way to Cami’s thinly clothed ass, caressing it gently until she heard the crinkle of tape. Letting Cami slide back a little out of her grasp, Brianna ended up honking the horn with Cami’s butt. They both had to break the kiss to giggle.
“Do you have tape on your ass?” Brianna asked.
“It’s intentional and necessary, I assure you,” Cami replied.
“Is there tape anywhere else I should know about?”
Cami feigned a pondering pose and shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’m beginning to think I should have used some on my chest as well.” She shifted a little, re-adjusting the front of the Wonder Woman costume to make sure it concealed her breasts.
With the moment ruined by double-sided tape crinkles and ass-on-horn honking, they decided to head up to the house, linking arms as they walked up the front steps of the allegedly haunted abode, which was clearly labeled haunted house by the large banner above the door, but had none of the campy trappings they were expecting. Nobody waited to take their tickets, no costumed thrill-seekers milled around the front, and aside from the porch light the entire house seemed to be dark.
“This doesn’t look right,” Brianna said. “Are you sure we have the right address?”
“It was your GPS that brought us here; you tell me?” Cami held back from knocking on the door when she realized Brianna had taken several steps back. “Don’t worry; you have an immortal creature of the night with some sort of golden rope thing here to protect you.” Cami held out the lasso to show Brianna how on top of the situation she was.
“That’s a lasso.”
“What does it do?” Cami asked.
“Supposedly makes people tell the truth.”
Cami inspected the lasso, which looked like ordinary rope spray-painted gold. Exotic things could come in ordinary packages, she supposed. Taking Brianna by the hand, she knocked on the door with a resounding echo following as if she’d banged on an entirely empty drum. A small, wooden slat in the door slid open.
“Password?” a disembodied voice, not definitively male or female, asked from the other side of the door.
“Carbuncle,” Cami and Brianna said in unison.
The door opened on an empty hallway. They both took a few tentative steps into the house, far enough to look around behind the opened door, expecting to find their greeter hiding, but the space was as empty as the rest of the tastefully appointed house from what they could tell. Before they could even give each other a concerned glance, the door slammed behind them.
“Is this vampire stuff?” Brianna asked, clinging to Cami’s side.
“It might be,” Cami said. “I’m not really aware of what all stuff we can do.”
Loud, thrumming, dance music beckoned them away from the dimly lit entryway deeper into the darkness of the house, down a hall draped with black sheets hanging on the walls, into a crowded dance club replete with flashing strobes, bass-driven beats, and close to a hundred shadowy figures dancing to rave music. The normalcy of the scene set them both at ease, and Brianna practically dragged Cami into the throng to dance. Pushing deep into the crush of bodies, they found a spot open enough to dance so long as they did so nearly in each other’s shoes. Cami removed the lasso from her belt and slung it around Brianna’s waist, holding her close as they writhed against each other in time with the music.
The scent of lemon poppy-seed muffins rose to Cami’s nose when she nuzzled in closer to Brianna. It was the scent of her blood, her desire, the part of Cami’s predatory, vampire attraction that drew her to Brianna in the first place. With Brianna’s ample breasts brushing up against hers with every shift and move to the music, Cami felt an undeniable lust rising not just between her legs, but in her fangs as well.
“Do you have to tell me the truth now?” Cami whispered into Brianna’s ear, nuzzling ever closer into her thick, brown hair.
“Whatever you want to ask,” Brianna replied breathlessly.
“Do you want me to bite you, right here, right now?” Cami whispered even closer to Brianna’s neck, letting her slowly extending fangs brush against the soft skin just below Brianna’s ear.
“Yes, and I don’t care who sees,” Brianna practically purred in response.
Cami cradled the back of Brianna’s head and let her teeth sink in slowly, thrilling at the immediate splash of hot blood across her tongue. Brianna stiffened for a split second before curling into Cami’s embrace. She wrapped one arm around her vampire lover’s shoulder for stability, but let the other roam up and down Cami’s side for a moment, moving past the playful petting stage to cup one of her breasts, caressing the firm mound eagerly through the top of her Wonder Woman costume.
With her bloodlust satiated, at least in part, and her more provincial lust building from Brianna’s caresses, Cami broke away from the bite, gasping, although she didn’t actually need to draw breath, immediately looking for a place they might go for some much-needed privacy. Instead, what she found was that they were embracing on an entirely empty dance floor. The strobe lights shut off, the music faded, and the room, which they once had thought a vibrant rave scene, actually appeared to be a Victorian sitting room dimly lit with a smattering of oil lamps and candles.
“Um…” Cami said, feeling a little stupid for not thinking of something better to say.
Brianna opened her eyes and jumped, twisting in Cami’s arms, not to escape, but to perhaps burrow in closer. “What the fuck?!”
Cami could kick herself for not thinking to say what Brianna had just said—it so perfectly described the situation with such an economy of words.
“We should probably go back out the way we came.” Cami turned in a slow circle to try to remember which way they’d come in, but found the room didn’t actually seem to have any doors or windows, just larger pai
ntings where one might reasonably assume a door or window should go. “That’s odd. I could have sworn we came in through a door.”
“What the fuck?!”
“You said that already.”
The Last Best Tip Page 5
