Dine With Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 22, 2017

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Submitted: October 22, 2017

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Dine With Me.

The club was busy, packed with guys, girls, drinking and dancing. The atmosphere was one of sensual seduction as the music throbbed and the lights pulsed. Bodies gyrated, together, alone; in spite of the laws, the air was thick with smoke.

He knew he looked good. He always looked good when he visited the club. There were plenty of people eyeing him up, but he was not interested. He would do his own crowd scoping; there seemed to be a lot of potential tonight. This time he was only interested in the girls and he was certainly attracting a lot of their attention.

He made his way to the bar, ordered his drink then stood, looking, weighing up, searching for the one that would become his girl. And then he saw her. He knew instantly that she would be the one that would walk out of the club on his arm.

Hard to tell the color of her hair in the lighting; brunette, he’d say. She had a cascade of curls around her shoulders, falling down her back. Her make-up was dramatic but still managed to be tasteful. Her lips appeared almost purple and her eyes were dramatically black.

It was her dress that really caught his eye. Black lace, figure-hugging. And those sleeves, almost like spider’s webs running from the top of her arms to her wrist. She must have sensed his eyes lingering on her, for she turned and looked directly into his eyes. A slight smile and a lick of the lips; clearly she was not going to need much convincing.

He sipped his drink, maintaining eye contact, then walked across towards her. He leant close, whispered in her ear; “Dine with me,” he said.

She raised an eye-brow. “Presumptuous, I see. But I like that in a man.....okay, let me grab my coat and I’ll meet you outside.”

He stood by the door for not more than a minute before she emerged. Her coat was large, black and hooded; a perfect defence against the cold and the damp. For the first time he noticed her shoes with their incredibly high heels. In spite of them, she took his arm and easily matched his pace.

"Where to,” she asked.

Was it too soon? He didn’t want to ruin things but his hunger was building. “My place?” He left it as a question, just so she did not feel forced to go along with him, but she shrugged.

"Why not!”

It was near, just five minutes walk away. He opened the door into an opulent flat, where he showed her in to a dining room, the table already set for a candlelit dinner for two.

"Should I feel honored or insulted?” There was the hint of teasing in her voice.

"I knew I would have company, but had no idea I would be joined by someone quite so beautiful as you.” He could feel his teeth beginning to elongate. Things needed to move along before his fangs became obvious.

Picking up the bottle that stood on the table, he filled two glasses, handed one to her. She took a sip as he almost gulped this down.

"An interesting taste, almost metallic. And thicker than most wines, too. It wouldn’t be my favorite, but it’s not bad!”

Why wasn’t she succumbing to it’s effects. Just one sip should have been enough to make her dizzy and yet she was now on to her second glass and showing no signs of disorientation whatsoever.

He stared at her over the top of his glass. He kept his mouth closed even though it was starting to cause him some considerable discomfort. How his teeth just longed to sink in to that white throat of hers!

He couldn’t wait any longer. He stood, walked around the table and leaned towards her. His mouth opened of its own accord and those two fangs grazed her skin. She should be shuddering, pulling away, not wrapping her own arms around him in an embrace. She is seeking his own neck out; could it be that she is a vampire too?

The threads of her sleeves seem to be growing, to be weaving around him and holding him tight. They felt kind of sticky as they wind and weave themselves into intricate patterns making it difficult for him to move.

The bite, when it came, told him everything. She saw his realization dawn. “Yes. I’m a black widow. Nothing succumbs to my venom quite so much as a vampire’s blood. Spiders beat bats any time, my dear!”


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