Night Scented Stock 3 – Clarissa

Clarissa … even the trees knew her name and greeted her when she passed. Their sibilant voices inaudible to human ears as they paid homage to her. She bid them be silent and lay on the grassy bank above the deferent oaks, letting the sun warm her pale skin.

She was at her most mortal in the sunlight, at her most vulnerable. A few hours and the night would envelope the land and allow her power to blossom into the beautiful and terrible flower that it was. For now she was content with the porcelain beauty of her skin, flawless, bewitching. Her sapphire blue eyes wove a magic that men could not resist, her red hair as intense as her petulant nature, challenging them to woo her from the moment she met them. They had been a good choice, maybe in a decade or so she would chose another form.

Her hair spread out on the grass, her face skyward, she closed her eyes. Where her skin touched the emerald blades their essence seeped into her. She felt each slender leaf, cool, lush, seeking out the sun. Deeper down she was submerged, cool earth pressing against her roots, sustaining her …

“Sorry I’m late.” It was Vincent. Poor, innocent Vincent. Young, smooth-skinned, firm bodied and so very succulent Vincent … She felt her canines begin to grow and stopped that train of thought. Later, she promised herself.

Shielding her eyes with one hand she looked at him. As delicious as she remembered him, if a little more awkward in his movements. They walked hand-in-hand to the café and sat at a table overlooking the rose garden.

Clarissa stared at the deep red of the flowers while he spoke to her about this and that, about jobs and parties, about mortgages and holidays. She made encouraging noises, “Hmm” and “Oh yes” at appropriate points but his words were just noise to her, all that she needed to know about him she could see, hear, touch, smell and taste.

Her hand was laid, palm down, on the table, his resting on it. His finger occasionally drew a circle on her wrist, he was so sweet. Sweet indeed to feel the testosterone seep from him into her. It changed her mood, added aggression to her hunger, made the emptiness in her stomach even more palpable. The tip of her tongue played with the sharp point of her upper left canine turning her pleasant smile into a leering sneer. He didn’t notice.

She heard his blood, pumping, gushing, corpuscles racing, jostling, flushed with life. Her chest heaved, that amused her. Clarissa hadn’t needed to breath for months, but she still did, a little sentimental perhaps hanging onto a vestige of life. Of course if she stopped breathing people noticed, not consciously, but they noticed. Humans had lost touch with their instincts, they could often see there was something awry with Clarissa but not quite place their finger on it.

Clarissa on the other hand felt more alive than she had done her whole life. Being dead, or was it undead?, was like being wired into nature itself. It had been overwhelming at first and had almost sent her insane. She’d returned home after feeding at the party that first night and locked herself in her room. Her mother had wanted to call a doctor but Clarissa had screamed at her not to. Her mother relented and two days later, butterfly-like she had emerged from the chrysalis of her bedroom to feed …

“Blah, blah, blah, blah anyway so I said if you think I’m putting my finger in there …” Vincent stopped ” You OK?”

“Oh! Yes fine, er, fancy a walk?” Clarissa was swallowing back saliva, her lip twitched, revolting against being pulled down to cover her now prominent feeding teeth.

“Why not.”

They walked hand-in-hand through the rose garden. Clarissa willing him to catch the back of his hand on a thorn needing to smell his blood. The hunger was driving her wild already a whiff of haemoglobin would have sent her into a frenzy that would not have gone unnoticed by the families and couples at the café. She laughed at the thought of it, the looks on their faces as she tore at his throat … maybe not. An enticingly cruel and macabre train of thought but one likely to involve her in a heap of trouble she didn’t need, both with the humans and the Others.

She waited until they were shielded from prying eyes and ears by a hundred metres of dense forest before pinning Vincent to a tree with a passionate kiss.

“Hmmffghmfgfhhhg” said Vincent. Clarissa released his lips and lifted a finger to his, “Sssshhhh”. She smiled a benevolent smile and tilted her head to one side in an almost innocent way. She stared at him with doleful eyes and a mischievous smile.

“Oh wow.” Breathed Vincent when Clarissa unfastened his trousers and peeled back his underwear to reveal a long, thick penis. She pressed against him, enjoying the feeling of hot veined flesh against her exposed midriff. She could feel he was already wet, rubbing his precum on her stomach as she kissed him again.

“I want to ride you. Lay down.” The words were said slowly, quietly, seductively, with authority. It was an instruction, an order, a command.

He complied. The lust he felt would have compelled him, her tone emphasising both their needs. Clarissa felt a mixture of impish pleasure and the intoxication of a callous power trip when she stood astride his head and displayed her naked, shaven pussy to his upturned face.

He licked his lips in anticipation. Vincent took hold of her ankle then slid up the back of her calf and lower thigh as far as his fingers could reach. One of her own hands strayed to her breasts, slipping inside her wrap-around top. The other explored her pouting, pink pussy, so in need of gratification.

Sexual arousal, she found, kept the hunger pangs at bay for a while. Though when they returned it was with an even more ferocious intensity that obscured her intellect and guile, making her careless. She had almost been caught in the act of feeding on one occasion because of it …

Clarissa slipped to her knees, astride Vincent’s face. She now had both hands free to fondle her breasts and pinch her full, stiff nipples. Vincent’s hands grasped her buttocks, he had strong hands, that excited her, she loved to feel them wandering across the terrain of her skin, discovering, unlocking its secrets.

She moaned with decadent pleasure while he lapped and nibbled at her labia. His attention to her softest and most delectable flesh creating ripples of pleasure from her skin to the very core of her being. He traversed her length and ventured further, the tip of his tongue circling her anus, probing gently. She was genuinely surprised, eyes wide, he’d seemed too conventional to indulge her with anal play, “Oooh Vincent!”

She treated herself to a few minutes more before sliding down his body and coaxing his waiting member inside her.

To be continued …

Image: Tinebra