Love, death, ... music. I became almost religious. I even started to look for my parish. Those of you who are somewhat like me. I hunted where the freedom of rebellion reigns. New roads, new paths.

I found Wolfie in one of the clubs. I sat in a dark corner, hidden by other people's backs, and watched him. I was mesmerised. He teased my eyes, dancing by the stage. He was swaying from too much alcohol, but he didn't leave, stubbornly shaking his hair which glistened in the spotlight. He was pushed and knocked over, laughed at, but he got up again. Handsome, defiant, with an abyss of doubt in his eyes. He provoked as he was losing the condescending attention of the crowd. His pale knees flashed in the cuts of his worn jeans. He smelled of arousal and I knew he was doomed. Doomed to love me.

I rose slowly, stretching out the pleasure of the coming closeness. I walked towards him, trying not to miss any of his movements. I could smell his scent. He lifted his head and recoiled in fear when he saw me in unexpected nearness. I know how to be stealthy, and I know how to suddenly become swift. If I need to. And I needed him. He stared at me for a few seconds. Shifting his surprised gaze from my slim, skinny-jeans-clad legs, along the snowy white revealing top, closer and closer to my eyes. Then he chocked headlong into its naked darkness.

‘You move nicely, Wolfie,' I said, peering up into his face, confused like that of a child stumbling upon a naughty scene in the film for the first time.

He tried to back away, but he only wobbled drunkenly sideways. I held him back while I savoured the feel of his heated body. He gently removed my fingers from his waist.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he threw, trying to be rude.

I grinned, glad to join the game.

‘You can call me Vic. I want to hang with you.’

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

‘Be my guest,’ he waved his hand and switched back to the music.

I couldn't refuse him and joined him in his spontaneous dance. At the same time I could feel his eyes on me. He tensely followed my movements, the swift vicious movements of a seducing vampire. Sometimes his was lost, increasingly swallowed by the vapours of the alcohol he'd drunk. But I knew he wouldn't forget. He wouldn't forget my refined muscles, the tantalising curve of my neck, or the blackness of my hair, long-lost its innocence. I know my power and I already know how to use it. Finally, his legs gave out and he collapsed at my feet, broken by inexperience and fatigue.

I leaned over him, catching his gaze drifting off into the nothingness of drunken sleep, and kissed him greedily on the lips. He mumbled something weakly, pushing me away, and froze, clutching at my hand with his clenched fingers. I smiled. I knew he would no longer want to escape. I carried him into the darkened alcove and left him, overcoming my own greed for him. I wanted him, but I didn't want to hurry. Something in his leaving glance managed to hurt my soul, and I wanted to know what....

He had kept his secret so that he could pour it out on me tonight. On this strange and dangerous night. He wriggles under me and moans a little. I know he's scared. But I'm scared too. And I've always thought I don't like to be afraid.

I’m pressing him back against the sheets and giving him freedom again. He flinches and I can feel how turned on he is. We're still clothed, and this ephemeral defence gradually provokes his boldness. He lays his whole body against me and runs his fingers through my hair. He loves the colour of it and its still angelic softness.

‘You're not a natural brunette, Vic,’ he says, slyly hiding his eyes. ’You’re blond. It's grown back a little at the roots. I noticed that a long time ago.’

‘I'll have to dye it,’ I smile and let him touch my head with his lips.

Where the stubborn flaxen whiteness really does show through, a mocking reminder of the past. The time when I still hesitated to disobey Alistair. He liked that I was different from him. He was aroused by my innocence. And I wanted to be his reflection. A mirror in which he could appreciate his own perfection. Or maybe I just wanted to humiliate him to expose his feelings. I told you before, I enjoyed tempting him. So I was stretching out the time, putting off our fourth meeting.

When I got out on that road again, my thoughts were no longer innocent.....