was a large candelabra on the table, and as she sat, she
noticed for the first time the white translucence of their
skin. Instead of being afraid, she found it to be just
another aspect of their intoxicating beauty. Nathan slid the
long skirt of her gown up her legs and focused his
attention on unfastening the buckles of her shoes. As he
bared her feet, he planted small kisses upon them. She
barely felt it as the kisses became nibbles and small bites.
Julian stepped around behind her and, leaning over her
shoulder, availed himself of the tender flesh which
extended above her low-cut gown. Swept up in the passion
of the moment, she wriggled to escape the bondage of her
remaining clothing. When finally, she sat naked before
them, the three friends murmured their appreciation.
“Ah, Nathan,” said Elliot, “such a wonderful choice. The
hands of an artiste are never calloused or rough.” And
with that he lifted her hand and took a vigorous bite,
blood quickly flowing and coating his lips and chin.
Giselle’s eyes flared like those of a horse feeling the whip
for the first time, and she cried out at her pain. Julian
stepped forward.
“Ah, Nathan,” he began, “it is indeed a wonderful choice.
Not the tough, sinewy muscles of a dancer, no, but the
soft, full roundness of an opera singer.” His lips peeled
back, revealing his fangs, and he bit her left breast
savagely, causing the blood to spurt as if it were a fountain
in their garden. At last she screamed out as she recognized
the peril into which she had allowed herself to be drawn.
But it was too, too late. Nathan moved toward Gisselle.
13