I first met her two months ago. My friends dragged me to a dance club, hoping to get me out of my funk. My boyfriend of 4 years had just dumped me, and at the time he’d cheerfully told me that he’d been cheating on me for the last 2 of those. Apparently, his friends didn’t think he’d be able to pull of the subterfuge that long and had made a bet out of it. Yeah, I know, a real catch, right? But I loved him, or thought I did.
Anyway, I’d been standing at the bar, having finally escaped my well-meaning friends, when I saw her up on the balcony. When our eyes met, I was immediately drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her aura exuded power and confidence. She had long black hair that fell like waves down to the middle of her back. Her black, form-fitting dress showed off a body that models would starve themselves for. But what drew me the most were her eyes. Her dark, almost black eyes seemed to look into my very soul, and it seemed like she knew all of my secrets, all of my sorrows. I was pulled up the balcony to her like I couldn’t stand another moment without her by my side.
We didn’t talk much, just mainly stood on the balcony, drinking margaritas and white Russians (well, I drank them), watching all of the hot, sweaty bodies down below grinding and dancing to the pounding music. At one point I left to let my friends know they could leave without me, and immediately went back to her side on the balcony. We danced a little, more of teasing each other with light touches and long looks than real dancing. Eventually, we went outside to the alley behind the club.
Now, I feel I should point something out. I have never been attracted to another woman before. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself where I was at. I hadn’t a clue as to what was to happen next, as even getting myself off was something I only did when I absolutely had to, which, in all honesty, wasn’t that often. However, even if I thought I knew what was going to happen next, I would’ve been wrong. So, incredibly wrong.
She pushed me against the wall and started to kiss me while fondling my breast. I was soaring, alcohol and desire making my head spin like never before. Then she was kissing my neck as she pulled my shirt off my shoulder slightly. She had her arm wrapped around my waist, preventing me from falling to my decidedly weak knees. I was in seventh heaven when I felt the sting. At first it didn’t register, my alcohol induced state dulling the pain. But then a weakness stole over me, a weakness not attributed to desire. Then I felt a little drop of moisture run down my chest. I opened my eyes, and saw blood!! I immediately started to freak and tried to push her away, but she kept a firm hold and only drew me closer to her body, which I just now noticed was colder than it should’ve been. My struggles didn’t last long as I was in really no state to do so. I also noticed another feeling coursing through me, one I really didn’t analyze until later.
Obviously, since I’m writing this now, she didn’t drain me completely. And no, she didn’t change me either. Eventually, she stopped drinking, and slowly let me down to the ground. Right before I passed out, I felt her push my hair back behind my ear, and I noticed that her dark, almost black eyes had turned to a dark, midnight blue. And then darkness consumed me.
I woke in the hospital the next day. My reason for being there? Weakness and anemia. Apparently, as soon as she was done feeding, the holes had closed up. I tried to convince myself that it had all been a dream, that I’d simply drank too much and after not having eaten for a while, I passed out. But the memory of the feeling of my blood being drained and the dreams of being eaten alive convinced me it had happened. For a week I refused to leave the house except to go to work. Even at work I was convinced she’d come up behind me and start feeding again. My pulse would start hammering and my stomach would start turning, causing me to feel slightly nauseous. My palms would start to sweat, and I could feel this energy pulse through me, making me fidgety and nervous. I was a wreck.
But the nights were the worst. The dreams of her holding me, feeding from me time and time again, would cause me to jerk awake, usually in the same state I was in while at work. The nervous energy would then keep me awake for most of the rest of the night. Let’s just say I got a lot of cleaning down.
It was into the second week after the incident that the dreams started changing. They would start out the same, her feeding from me, me trying to get away. But slowly, instead of pushing her away, my arms would go around her neck, pulling her tighter to me. This image alone caused me to sit bolt upright in bed, confused and slightly scared, though not in the same way I had been. I tried going back to sleep, but the image wouldn’t leave. Why had I been pulling her to me? Why had the feeling of fear changed so dramatically? I tried to ignore the next day, but then the night came, and more dreams. This time, I didn’t even try to push her away. The dream started with my arms around her, pulling her to me to encourage her to feed, to gain her sustenance from my blood. This disturbed me in no small way. How could I go from fearing this demon to all of the sudden offering myself to her? Was there something wrong with my head? Had I been knocked unconscious and this was all just one really weird dream? Had I been given incorrect drugs while in the hospital which in turn made me crazy?
It was on the fourth night of these dreams that I remembered the unusual feeling I’d had when she’d been feeding. Underneath all the fear and pain, I had felt contentment and desire. Now I knew I was crazy, but this realization wouldn’t leave. I couldn’t even concentrate at work because my mind was so wrapped up, trying to solve this problem. Contentment and desire while my life was being drained. Yeah, that made a lot of sense. Finally, almost two weeks after I’d met her, I went back to the club. I didn’t really understand my reasoning, but I knew she’d be there, and I felt the only way I could get closure was to see her again.
And there she was, standing up on the balcony, watching the dancers down below, most likely selecting her next victim. Our eyes met, and electricity coursed through my body. If she was surprised to see me, she didn’t show it. Her dark, midnight blue eyes called to me. I was drawn to her just like before, but I this time I wasn’t drunk. I knew exactly what I was getting into, and as soon as I saw her, I knew why I was here. As I walked up the balcony to once again stand by her side, I understood that I loved her. I knew that I would willingly give up my life to her time and time again if it meant I could be held in her arms one more time, if it meant I could continue to stand by her side.
She didn’t feed from me that night. I came to learn that when her eyes were that midnight blue, then she’d recently fed. It wasn’t until they started to turn black that she needed nourishment. For a month and a half we’ve met almost every night at the club, and every other week she’ll take me back to her apartment. A more comfortable atmosphere for the both of us. I know there are others. She told me she has to feed 2-3 times a week, and I unfortunately can’t supply her all the time. I can’t help but feel jealous, knowing that she is sharing an intimacy that I want all to myself. Because allowing her to feed from me is a form of intimacy that I won’t ever able to share with anyone else, a level of trust that I give only to her. And while we’ve never actually had sex (believe me, I’ve tried, but there are reasons we haven’t), I like to believe, I like to hope, that she holds me just a little closer, that she cradles me just a little longer, than the others that sustain her. I’m in love with death, and I couldn’t be happier.