Vamp story number 1 (the less good one)

“You know, it hardly feels like a thousand years.”

He leaned back in the rolling desk chair, crossing his leg the opposite way and smiling at me in his curious lopsided way.

I cocked a brow, resisting the urge to smile at this creature as he sat before me, his long and wavy dark hair just brushing he shoulders, bright blue eyes shining even in the dim light, dressed in a fine suit of Italian cut.  He had his hands clasped serenely in his lap, his fine glassy nails glinting.

“If you think about it, 100 years of a human’s life is a long time–an entire century, but it never *feels* that long…why?  Because one continues to live, to feel, to experience every last day of it.  And really when you think of it, the times that seem long are the ones where one is sick or injured… a possibility quite removed in my current state,”

I stared past him, taking it in.  His logic was, as always, flawless, his argument was articulate and fair minded.  I smiled slightly in spite of myself.  His voice carried just a faint touch of an unknown accent, rendering it a clipped and very specific sound.  It was low, enticing like the purr of a wild animal.

He smiled at me in his odd way, lifting just the corner of his shapely lip, revealing just one elongated perfectly white tooth.  It reminded me of a nature documentary I saw once about crocodiles.  I sighed as I leaned back in my plush armchair, feeling the velvetty cloth carress the little hairs on my exposed arms.

I studied him then finally spoke, “How many nights have you been coming to me with this?”  My eyes held his steadily.  I wouldn’t show fear.  He lived off fear.

He studied me back, careless grin still pasted on his face.  “More importantly, my love, how many times in all my visits have you considered saying yes?”

I broke the solid stare, looking over his left shoulder at my darkened computer monitor.  I couldn’t answer that question, much less let him on to what I was hiding…but he certainly already knew or he wouldn’t have asked.  His self assurance was never unfounded.

I looked back to him, “You know that doesn’t matter.  Haven’t we all lusted over the forbidden fruit?  But how many of us actually know its flavor?”

He stood up slowly and sauntered in his careless way over to where I sat, drawing the tip of his finger down my chin and across my throat.  “It’s ecstasy,” he murmered.

I sat entranced as his icy cold finger traced its path across my throat.  A shiver ran through my body but not from the cold–this was a much different type of feeling.  I shifted in my chair, not meeting his gaze.  I swallowed hard, feeling his eyes on me, lusting over me.  So enchantingly beautiful… So forbidden that he was all I wanted.