I sat in Cecilia’s a while longer and watched the dancers do their thing, watched the girls on the dance floor do their thing, and watched the college frat boys try ineffectually to pick them up.
Everything seemed to be going my way. Detective Tanner had nothing on me, the vampires who wanted me dead were off my back, I’d gotten to catch up with my best friend, Kelly was probably scared shitless after seeing his locker that morning, my mom had escaped her abusive husband, that abusive husband was dead, and as far as I knew, Sarah was in a happy relationship with a guy who actually cared about her, and even though it couldn’t be me, I was grateful for it.
For once, things were working out perfectly. And I was bored stiff.
I looked down at my hands. They were pale, almost gray, and my blue veins looked like a roadmap. I could only imagine how spooky my face looked. I needed blood.
But when I got up to go down to the haven, I noticed a pair of girls checking me out.
Hell, why stop at blood?
Just to make sure the girls were actually interested, I smirked and gave them a little wave. They smiled at each other excitedly and waved back. That was all the invitation I needed. I strutted over to their table, turned a chair around backward, and sat down, crossing my arms on the back of it.
“Evening, ladies,” I greeted.
They giggled. “Hi,” the blonde said.
“My name’s Grin,” I told them. “What’re yours?”
“Um… Are you, like, picking us up?” the brunette asked.
I grinned and said, “That’s all up to you two.”
They giggled again and the blonde answered, “Well, we were talking about you…”
The brunette put her arm around her friend and teased, “We were talking about how Brittany here has never been with a rocker guy before.”
Whoa. That was easy…
“Amanda!” the blonde gasped, pushing her away.
“I understand,” I said to Brittany. “We can be kind of intimidating.” I turned my attention to the brunette, Amanda. “What about you?”
She scoffed. “Me? I totally have!”
“No, she hasn’t,” Brittany chimed in, earning herself a little slap on the arm from her friend.
I laughed. “Hey, I can dig it. We’re all virgins to something. Me? I’ve never had two girls at once. …What’s it like?”
“I dunno,” Amanda said coyly with a little shrug. “Two mouths… Four hands…”
“Ooh. Math just got a whole lot more interesting,” I said.
“What’s it like to be with a metal guy?” Brittany asked.
“It’s just like the music,” I told her. “Loud, fast, and thrashin’.”
They looked at each other, grinning with anticipation, but they seemed a little conflicted.
“Tell you what,” I offered. “I’ve got something to do before I leave. If you’re interested, there’s a black Cadillac parked out front. If you’re there when I get back, we’ll have some fun. If not, then it was at least nice to meet you. Fair enough?”
The girls agreed and I left them to make their decision while I went down to the haven. That’s one crappy thing about being a vampire, at least if you’re a guy—worrying about if you’ve got enough blood in you to get it up. I threw myself down at the bar, my sudden presence giving Roger a start.
“Ya gotta help me, man! There’re two chicks waiting for me to take them home and my veins are dry as hell!” I explained in a rush.
He snapped his fingers and disappeared into the fridge, coming back with a one-quart bag of blood. “This is what you need,” he told me, pushing the cold thing into my hands. “Just bite and suck as fast as you can. Doesn’t taste great, but you’ll be ready when the time comes.”
I punctured the plastic with my fangs and swallowed hard and fast, ignoring the sterile smell, the antiseptic taste, and the coldness of it. The bag shrank in my hands until it made a sound sort of like a straw sucking up the last of the liquid in the bottom of a cup. I pulled back, took a breath, and cringed at the aftertaste.
Roger took the empty bag and said, “Good luck.”
I grinned and jumped up from my seat, striding quickly for the exit. Apparently, it was pretty obvious what I was about to do, because a guy high-fived me on my way to the door, and another yelled from the back of the room, “You go, Grin!”
When I arrived out front, sure enough, the girls were waiting by my car. I smiled and took out my keys as I approached.
“Your car is awesome!” Brittany said.
“You should see my bike,” I bragged, and unlocked the passenger door. I opened it for them and they climbed inside, then I went around and got in the driver’s seat.
“Must be expensive though, right?” Amanda asked. “I mean, to keep it running and looking good?”
“She’s worth it,” I said, and the de Ville gave a nice, strong rumble as I started it. I took a CD from my visor and flashed it at the girls. “I keep her updated, too,” I added, and popped the disc in the stereo. Heavy metal thunder blasted from the speakers, making the girls jump in surprise.
“Well, girls?” I called over the music. “Where to?”
To you ladies out there, let me remind you of something you most likely already know:
We men are fucking idiots when we’re horny.
Now, I consider myself to be an intelligent guy. But get enough blood in my Levi’s and I’ve got the mental capacity of an excited puppy. So when they directed me to an old, Bates Motel-looking place just off the highway, my years of watching horror movies should’ve raised a red flag. The place looked like a relic from the ’70’s, the flickering sign with blown-out lights proudly advertising color TV. The gravel parking lot was almost empty and the office was lit by a single lamp on the desk, the attendant nowhere to be seen. If my brain had been working properly, I would’ve found those details worth considering. But, thanks to the throbbing in my jeans, the only thing I was considering was—in the immortal words of Nikki Sixx—girls, girls, girls.
I parked the car in front of the last room on the building and we went up to the door. Brittany took out a key and unlocked it. I stepped in after them and shut the door behind me.
“So, how’d you get that name? ‘Grin?'” Amanda asked, turning on a lamp.
I chuckled and came up behind her. “I smile a lot,” I replied, and turned the light back off.
Constantly, in fact.
Brittany came up behind me and started to take off my jacket. “You like it in the dark, huh?” she flirted. “Sexy.”
My jacket fell to the floor. I turned around and put my hands on her hips, pulling her against me. “Well, yeah,” I said, sliding her shirt up her sides. “It’s about feeling, not seeing.”
Not to mention a few corpses have been found in this city with cuts matching the scars on my face. Might be a turn-off.
“Not so fast, hot stuff,” Brittany teased, pushing my hands back down. “You first.”
“I wanna do his shirt,” Amanda volunteered, turning me around. I laughed and let her pull it off over my head. She stroked my chest and said, “Ooh… I love chest hair.”
“And tattoos!” Brittany added, moving my ponytail over my shoulder. “Look at this one on his back!”
Amanda moved behind me and gasped when she saw the wings, and they both circled me, touching all over my back and arms, checking out my ink.
“Uh oh,” Amanda said, looking at my right shoulder. “Who’s Laura? A girlfriend?”
“That’s my mom.”
“Aww!” they gushed in unison.
“That’s so sweet,” Brittany said.
“Got any more?” Amanda urged, playing with the waist of my jeans.
“Just two.” I undid my jeans and pulled the waist down just low enough for them to see the tattoos on my hips—two ankhs, the 69 Eyes band logo.
“Ooh, now we’re getting to the good stuff,” Brittany said, pulling the waist of my jeans lower. I laughed and let the girls take them off of me as I slid my feet on the carpet to get my socks off. The girls’ eyes widened as they saw the tent my cock had pitched in my boxers. They grinned at each other and grabbed my wrists, pulling me onto the bed. I laughed and lay on my stomach between them, kissing Amanda first while Brittany pulled the tie from my hair. I slid my tongue between Amanda’s lips and she sighed, pressing her mouth harder to mine. Brittany nibbled at my ear and I shivered, switched to kissing her. Amanda sucked on my neck, bit playfully, moved up to my jaw. Before I knew it, I was kissing both of them at once. It was surreal, but it was awesome. Two mouths and four hands wasn’t the half of it. I had two different desires to please, two different sets of sweet sounds to listen to, two different smells, two different tastes. It was overwhelming in the best way.
Then Brittany stopped and pushed against my shoulder, looking over at Amanda. They seemed to have some kind of telepathic conversation.
“I dunno what you two are scheming… but I have a feeling I’m gonna like it,” I panted, taking the much needed opportunity to calm down a bit.
Amanda bit her lip and said, “Well… we like to get a little kinky. …Is that okay?”
Did she just say the magic word?!
“Kinky?” I repeated dumbly.
“Yeah… Y’know, whips and chains?”
I was speechless. “I know… I was just wondering how you knew my middle name.”
The girls laughed and Brittany said, “I guess that’s a yes.”
“I’ll get the rope,” Amanda told her, and grinned at me devilishly.
The girls got up and Brittany pushed me down on my back, straddling my hips and pinning my arms. Her brows rose in surprise and she purred, “Oh… You really do like that, don’t you?” She started grinding me slowly to show me how she knew.
“Hell yes,” I groaned, lifting my hips for stronger
contact, but she rose out of my reach. I sighed and let my head fall back on the pillow, but as torturous as the teasing was, there was a filthy pleasure in it.
Amanda had dug around in a bag on the floor and came back with a coil of rope. They tied my wrists to the bed posts.
“Tight enough?” Amanda asked.
I pretended to try and pull myself free, knowing my unnatural strength could snap the ropes if I tried hard enough. I panted with the false effort and said, “Yeah, I’m screwed.”
She laughed. “Not yet, you’re not.”
They went to the foot of the bed and Brittany yanked my boxers off. Then they turned to each other, leaned in, and kissed.
“Oh, man…” I sighed, watching them French and feel each other up. “Larry Flynt was right about everything.”
“You like that?” Brittany asked, smirking at me.
I smiled broadly as they put on their show, undressing each other, pressing their breasts together, running their hands over one another’s curves, their fingers through each other’s hair, grinding, licking, sucking, nibbling, touching, gasping, moaning. All for me. I was living the dream, baby.
Finally, when I was on the brink of insanity, they turned back to me again. This time, Brittany went to the bag on the floor while Amanda climbed onto the bed. She pushed my legs apart and knelt between my knees. “Bet you’re really wanting it now, huh?” she asked.
“Honey, I’m losing my fucking mind…”
Suddenly, there was a flash of white light. I looked over at Brittany. She was holding an old Polaroid camera. “Don’t worry,” she said, taking the picture out and shaking it. “No one’s gonna see these but us.”
“Say ‘cheese,’ handsome,” Amanda said with a smile, straddled my hips, and gasped as she slid me inside her hot, wet pussy. I groaned and my back arched, the pleasure like a wave of relief after so much anticipation.
She rode me slowly at first and I watched the muscles of her thighs work in the flashes of the camera. I wanted to touch her so bad, but whenever I found myself straining against the ropes, I stopped myself so I wouldn’t break them. All I could do was watch her take me. Her breasts and hair bounced and sweat began to glisten on her stomach as she increased the pace, but I wanted more. I lifted my hips in time with her downward motion and we met hard in the middle. She squealed and raked her fingernails down my chest.
“Oh, fuck yes…” I growled.
“Do it,” I could hear Brittany say.
Amanda reached around on the mattress and her hands came to my throat with a length of slack from the rope. She quickly wound it around my neck and started to pull. The camera flashes came faster. I wasn’t into the whole choking thing, but hey, whatever got her off…
But as she did start to get off, the rope got disturbingly tight. The camera was like a strobe light, Amanda was fucking me hard and fast, screaming and jerking in orgasm, and my airway was completely closed off. My dick lost interest in the whole situation as I realized what was actually happening.
“C’mon, Amanda! Do it!” Brittany yelled.
“I’m trying!” she insisted, and pushed herself up, pulling the rope with all her strength. I rolled my eyes back, spasmed a few times, and let my body go limp.
Amanda sighed and collapsed on the bed next to me. “Finally!” she panted. “I thought he’d never die.”
Brittany took a few more pictures, then I felt her lift my hand and check for a pulse. “Well, he did,” she said, and asked excitedly, “So? What did I tell you!”
Brittany laughed. “You were right… That was fun!” She got off the bed. “Way better than taking the pictures, anyway.”
“Turn on the light. Let’s see how they turned out.”
Any second now…
The light came on and I heard the girls picking pictures up off the floor. They shuffled through them and Amanda whispered, “Oh my God…”
“Look… His eyes…”
“What? …That’s just red-eye, isn’t it?”
“Then why aren’t mine doing that?”
There was a long pause in their conversation as one of them came up next to me. She gasped and I realized it was Brittany as she said, “Amanda… Look at his face!”
Amanda came up to the bed. “It looks like…”
Don’t make the connection yet, princess. I wanna see it in your eyes.
“I don’t like this. Get his money and keys. Let’s get dressed and get outta here!”
All right. Let’s party.
With a grunt, I sat up and jerked hard against the ropes, snapping them. The girls screamed and leapt away from the bed, photos flying out of their hands and littering the floor. I stood on the mattress and grinned down at them.
“You said he was dead!” Amanda cried.
“I am,” I said, and jumped to the floor in front of them. They both started to bolt in opposite directions, but I grabbed them around their waists and picked them up, kicking and screaming.
“Gotta feeling that’s not gonna do any good,” I told them as I carried them to the bed. “Even if someone hears you, no-tell motels are pretty notorious for not telling… That’s why you use them as your killing ground, right?”
I pushed them down on the bed and straddled Amanda to keep her still as I held on to Brittany’s wrists. I used one end of the frayed rope to lash her hands to the post on the left. She struggled with the knot, yanking on the headboard, kicking me while I tied her friend up the same way on the other side.
While they screamed at me to untie them and let them go, starting with threats and then resorting to pleading, I got dressed and thought about what to do. I knew they were the ones that had killed those men recently, luring them to these motels, tying them up, strangling them, robbing them. But… they were girls! I was raised to respect women, not viciously murder them. But, they were murderers… Damn, I was confused.
I pulled on my boots and picked their bag up off the floor. It was heavy. I put it on the foot of the bed and started to go through it. I pushed aside cameras, rope, rolls of film, and saw the pictures. Lots of them. Some of them were of Brittany fucking men, but most of them were of her killing them, or of the girls posing with the corpses, smiling gleefully. It wasn’t just money they were after. They were thrill killers.
All right, so was I, but at least I tried to seek out people who deserved it. People like them.
I lifted a picture of a young man, maybe my age, with his eyes rolled so far back in his head, you couldn’t see the irises. There was blood on his neck, the rope having been pulled so tight that it tore his skin. But he wasn’t alone in the picture. Amanda’s face was next to his, smiling like the prom queen from your high school yearbook. My lip curled involuntarily in disgust, showing my fangs. I lifted my black eyes to the girls and glared.
On second thought, this might not be too hard after all.
They stood on either side of the bed, still tethered to the posts by their wrists that had become red and raw with their struggling. I took handfuls of pictures and threw them on the bed like the world’s most sickening confetti, watching new terror appear on their faces.
“…Just because I’m tired of hearing ‘Why are you doing this,'” I explained.
And that was the end of my usual look-upon-your-sins-and-tremble routine. Without another word, I put the bag on the floor, took out a rope, and walked toward Brittany.
“Please, no!” she sobbed, her knees going weak. She collapsed beside the bed, holding her tied hands up in front of her.
“Get away from her!”
I pulled Brittany up by her wrists and wrapped the rope around her neck. She started to scream, but I yanked it tight and the sound was choked off.
“NO!” Amanda shrieked.
Brittany grabbed my arm and pulled, but I was too strong. She pounded her fists into my chest, my stomach, my face, but oxygen deprivation took its toll. Veins burst in her eyes and cheeks, her tongue protruding from her purple lips. Her body seized in a struggle for air. Then it stopped. I lowered her to the floor and waited, keeping the rope tight. After a moment, her muscles gave one last desperate jerk. I relaxed my hands and took the rope from around her neck.
I looked at Amanda. She had been suspiciously quiet since I started on Brittany, and I realized it was because she had been working on the knot with her teeth. It had almost come loose. I wrapped the ends of the rope around my hands and started around the bed. She whimpered in fear and gave a long, hard pull. The tie unraveled and she fell to the floor, but she quickly righted herself and ran for the door. I came up behind her, threw the rope over her head, and pulled it taut against her throat. She reached up and tore at my face with her nails, but I took the opportunity to plunge my fangs into the inside of her forearm. She tried to pull away at first, but she stopped when she realized she was only making it worse. And suddenly, she collapsed. But she wasn’t dead. The fear, pain, and suffocation had been too much for her and she’d fainted. Still, I kept the rope tight and waited for the blood to stop spurting into my mouth, telling me her heart had stopped. I healed the gashes in her arm with my tongue and dropped the rope to the floor as I picked her up.
I lay both of them on the bed among the pictures and retied Amanda’s wrists to the post. Then I picked my jacket up off the floor and took out my switchblade. I snapped it open and stared at the metal, my eyes picking up the light from the lamp and reflecting back at me.
Can I really do this? I mean, I’ve done some sick things, but this? Am I that much
of a monster? As much as they were?
I glanced at the floor and saw one of the pictures they’d taken of me. Amanda mid-climax with the rope around my neck, trying to kill me, and getting off on it in more ways than one.
Y’know what? Chalk one up for gender equality, because yes. Yes, I fucking am.
I tested the edge of the blade on my thumb and walked toward the bed.