The Last Girl (10 page)

I jump when the other vampire growls. “Maybe we’ll just take her. We outnumber you. Asking was just a polite formality.”

Christian is out of the booth so fast, I fall against the seat from his sudden exit. The other vampire is gone, too. Christian has grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him out of the booth. It’s as if they teleported a few feet away to be clear of the table. That’s how fast they are.

Christian’s eyes glow and fangs descend. He embodies pure, undiluted evil right now. I hope the other vampire is as intimidated as I am.

“You may outnumber me, but I’m significantly older than all of you. Remember that when the alcohol wears off. At that point you can count yourself lucky you still live. My mercy is a one time deal because we’re friends and you’ve had too much to drink. Now get lost.”

He shoves the vampire away. The vamp stumbles a little, but then seems to sober up. “I... I’m sorry, Sir.”

Sir?
I really
don’t
know the vampire hierarchy. Christian nods in a regal, dismissive way, then comes back to join me in the booth.

Another vampire, a bouncer-looking guy, approaches our table. “Is there a problem, Sir? Should we take out the trash?” He doesn’t say
Sir
like a waiter taking a drink order. He says it like it means something more, like it holds more weight.

Christian shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. I warned him. But if he or one of his friends comes near Juliette again, I want them removed from the property and blacklisted. That goes double for the other club.”

He says
other club
like it’s a secret code. It isn’t hard to guess what kind of club the other club is. I don’t know details, of course, but it’s probably less NC-17 and more X-rated if I had to guess.

The bouncer’s gaze shifts briefly to me. His fangs are on display and a flicker of curiosity passes through his eyes, though not the same kind of curiosity the others had. Then he nods at Christian, and I detect the slightest bow.

“Sir?” I say, after the guy leaves, curious about why everyone here seems to be giving him a special title when they address him.

“No. Master.”

Is that a joke? There is the barest bit of a grin at the corner of his mouth, another little human tick slipping through the cracks of his mask of evil. I don’t know what to do with that, so I just ignore it and concentrate on my real question.

“I just meant, why did he call you that?”

“I own this whole district. The club, the boutique, a few other places you haven’t seen yet.”

Like, the
other club
.

I’m still trying to catch my image of the vampire up to the idea of him owning this district. A small frown furrows my face as I think back to our shopping the previous night.

“If you own the district, then why did you have to pay—”

“
Did you
see
me pay for anything last night?”

I shake my head. I didn’t see it. I just assumed he had a tab, what with his long history with Nadine. I thought it was her boutique. Maybe she just manages it for him.

I turn his words over in my head, that he
owns
the whole district. Somehow it feels like that means more than it sounds like it means on the surface. Like he owns it in a
make you an offer you can’t refuse
way.

Christian pulls me toward him and wraps an arm around me, running his fingers through my hair. “Are you hungry, pet?”

I am a little, so I nod. I’m still afraid to ask to have any of my most basic needs met. I’m afraid if I interrupt him to bother him with some petty human need like food or a bathroom, that I’ll see more of his darkness.

Christian motions the bouncer-guy back over. “I’d like something for my pet. She needs to eat.”

“Of course, Sir. Anything in particular?”

Christian doesn’t ask if I have any preferences, he just says, “Whatever you have in the kitchen is fine.”

As soon as the other vampire is gone, I’m asking questions again. I can’t help it. Everything is just so weird here. “I thought you wanted me gourmet?”

Christian chuckles. “Randall knows how I feed my pets. This is a first-rate club and we only serve humans organic here, though most patrons aren’t as particular as I am when it comes to pet diets.”

My food arrives and I eat while watching around me like the prey animal I am. I’m like some rabbit, twitching my little nose and watching for the need to run. But of course my instincts for self-protection are overkill. Christian looms over me like a gargoyle guarding the castle. No one will dare come near me.

Several minutes later he says, “If you’re finished eating, it’s time to go.”

Time to go? We just got here.

As if he’s read my mind, he says: “I needed to check on the club and feed you. I have other plans for us tonight. Come.”

I force myself to stand and take his hand as he leads me through the twisting fog. Several vampires nod an acknowledgment at him. The humans in attendance look a little wistful, like he’s their vampire hero or something.

Even though he’s said it was an object lesson, I can’t help fearing the limo will show up and he’ll kill another prostitute in front of me. I need to pretend that while he’s a predator, I’m his only prey. I can’t stand the idea of growing attached to a monster who kills without remorse.

His hand in mine remains comforting. It makes me feel safe even though I’m afraid of where we’re going next. A part of me already knows. The
other club
.

It’s just a few blocks down, and we walk. The moonlight is the only visible illumination out here. There are no street lights, and the area seems dead except for the incongruous existence of nice cars. I wonder why no cops come by or why this strange sight doesn’t draw other people. Or is it meant to? Like a Venus Flytrap just waiting for prey to walk inside.

Anyone who comes to this godforsaken area surely will be enthralled, their memories wiped of all knowledge, perhaps given the suggestion to never drive down this road again. No, it’s not that unusual they can keep these cars out in the open without challenge.

I would never walk somewhere like this alone at night. I can’t think of a single person I’d feel safe here with. I try to imagine walking through this area even in the middle of the day with Devon. I can’t seem to picture it. But with Christian, I’m at ease.

This feeling is punctuated with an exclamation point as some punk teen rushes at us with a knife. “Give me your wallet,” he says.

Christian laughs, then he growls at the kid, his fangs showing. “Get lost, kid.” The moonlight hits the front of the boy’s pants just right and a dark stain appears, then he turns tail and runs.

My master makes no further comment; he just leads me inexorably toward... whatever. I feel my heart picking up its pace, a nervous flutter that can’t be calmed. Though my nerves weren’t jangled when the knife-wielding teenager showed up, they are now. The prospect of the rest of my night looms large and terrifying.

We stop at another building, its exterior the same as the other places we’ve visited. Again, the inside has the characteristic disgusting carpet and stray rat or spider with an elevator at the end. The elevator, of course, goes down.

When the doors open, it’s electronica music again, only this music feels different. It feels like somehow sex has been distilled into a sound. It’s an erotic, hypnotic pull. Just hearing it scares me, excites me, makes me wet. I look up at Christian and he smirks down at me. He knows. He smells it.

Several heads turn our way in sharp, predatory unison. They smell it, too. Not everyone. Just the vampires. They are the only ones who looked up. The others are too lost in their haze of pleasure and pain to notice anything.

Looking around me, men and women are chained and tied down to various contraptions, while random inanimate objects are being forced into the sexually appropriate openings. Moans and cries mingle: some pleasure, some pain. Whipping, blood, biting, fangs, orgasm, cocks everywhere.

I suspected what this club was, but to see it, to be immersed in it, is something else. The deep, pulsing sounds of the music seem to thrum with an aching need that has started between my legs.

As Christian leads me through the club, bodies part like the Red Sea. He weaves us in between spanking horses, the occasional St. Andrew’s Cross, benches meant for fucking, whipping, playing. Every way someone can be chained down and used is represented in the various kinky furniture around the club. We end up in the center of the room where a long, wide bench just happens to be vacant as if I’m to be the main course entertainment of the evening.

He doesn’t order me to do anything. He doesn’t say a word to me. He merely starts undressing me, slowly, as if he’s teasing everyone in attendance, enticing them with the package he’s unwrapping. His first pet in seventy years.

There is a part of me that knows I shouldn’t be so
laissez-faire
about this. As each bit of my flesh is exposed for their visual consumption, I feel another little piece of acceptance lock into place. For a moment I feel like I’m the vampire and they are the humans because I could swear I can hear their every lewd thought as it’s projected out at me. These imagined thoughts should bother me more.

I feel hot and cold and scared and exhilarated. Dimly I’m aware that it might be normal for me to cry or beg or try to escape, but I still swear that music is hypnotizing me, not in some metaphorical, poetic way—in a real way. It breaks down my defenses, like magic is encoded in the notes. All I want to do is please him. All I want to do is entertain the gathering darkness.

It feels like I’m in a dream again. I hold onto that thought because it makes it easier to not protest, to go along and explore and see where this leads. I shiver as layers of clothing end up on the floor and goosebumps pop over my flesh. The room is a little chilly, something vampires would never notice. Christian rubs the little bumps off my arms and kisses the hollow of my throat.

He leads me to straddle the bench and to lie across it on my stomach. A rounded rubber protrusion sticks up and he guides my body, adjusting me until the rubber presses right against my clit. He chains my arms and legs down, and locks something around my waist, making me immobile.

But he isn’t finished. He blindfolds me, gags me, puts earplugs in my ears, and then something else I can’t define goes over the earplugs to muffle the sound even more.

For some reason I don’t resist any of this. Each sense that is taken away makes me feel more his, wrapped more tightly in his web. I belonged to him when I was nearly dead in the parlor and his wrist was suddenly in front of my mouth offering salvation, but now, that feeling is more. I didn’t think I could feel more at his mercy than in that moment, but I do.

Everything is gone. Sight, sound, the ability to scream. I’m alone and exposed in front of all of these people in a dark little space of the universe, but because I can’t see or hear them, they aren’t real. It’s only me that exists now.

I’m right, there was something wrong with that music, something that lowers defenses, something they’ve created to make those they bring happily compliant to their every demand. Now that it’s gone and I’m in silence, I’m more afraid. It’s a panic that wants to bubble up from somewhere deep inside me.

I want to struggle and scream, but there’s nowhere to go and no words can come out. On some base level, I know panicking will only make me suffer. It’s better to accept that which I cannot change, to relax and let myself roll and flow with what’s about to happen. I was never an alcoholic, but the serenity prayer seems appropriate here.

I wonder for a moment how this music can enthrall me when Christian can’t. I imagine the power of a suggestion from a thousand vampires has somehow been embedded into the track. My illusions about being so special that all vampire rules no longer apply to me, have faded into oblivion along with most of my senses.

My only knowledge of the music now is the way the bass pounds through my body. If not for that, I could be lulled into feeling the music had been shut off, that it’s as quiet for everyone else as it is for me. Whether I can hear it like before, or not, I can feel it. Feeling is all I have left. I hold onto it like I’m holding the last flower in the world, trying to keep the petals from wilting.

Christian’s hand runs over my back, stopping to cup my ass, then all at once the rubber protrusion begins to vibrate against my clit. Although I’m upset, I can’t deny how aroused I was before he cut off my senses. My body was so worked up and excited that now I’m swamped in a sea of sensation. All I can do is feel.

Time is measured, not by seconds or minutes or hours, but by orgasm count as I writhe shamelessly against the rubber. After awhile it becomes too intense and I struggle to pull away from the vibrations. All I need is a couple of inches distance to ease off the sensation enough to breathe. But a hand presses my ass down, pushing me so I’m in contact with the rubber again. After a few moments, something that had been strung tight inside me loosens, and I just give in to it until the next orgasm rolls over me.

Other things begin to happen. The pain of my virginity being ripped away again, this time by a glass, phallic-shaped object. The feeling causes me to scream behind the gag, but then another orgasm comes and I forget it.

I experience a sharp sting across my back, a flatter pain, another sting of a different nature. If not for the earplugs, I’m sure I would hear something slice the air or crack against my body, but all I have is the feeling. The fire licks through me, making me squirm and cry, but the pleasure maintains its steady assault, so insistent I can’t fall too far into the misery before I’m lifted up again on the euphoria.

After awhile the feelings begin to blend. It’s all one thing, pleasure-pain. There is no division. All at once, I lose that feeling and everything separates out again. I can pinpoint each individual sensation and I imagine it’s somehow the same as how a vampire’s senses operate, how he might be able to hear a cricket a mile away and a dishwasher downstairs as two distinct perceptions.