Tuesday 10 November 2015

Lust: A Short Story.



It was dark as Liz walked down the narrow street that night, the only faint light coming from a crescent moon and the myriad of twinkling stars whose light had traveled across countless aeons.  In this out of the way place, street lights seem to have been considered unnecessary, a luxury.  She  pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, as winter was fast approaching and the air had a distinct chill to it.

There were few people around at this hour and the sound of her own  footsteps sounded sharp and clear on the pavement as she hurried homewards. Liz wouldn't normally be out so late in a strange area, totally unknown to her, but her car had decided that this was a good day to die, and she couldn't call a cab as the battery on her mobile phone had also given up.  If she'd seen a pay phone that was actually working you can bet she'd have used it to get help,  but no such luck.  Isn't that always the way? she thought.

She wasn't afraid; being out alone had never worried her but it was late, and cold, and she just wanted to get home. So when she sensed someone behind her it didn't worry her unduly; actually, she hoped it might be an offer of help, a lift perhaps, the use of a phone, something like that.

As the footsteps drew level she half turned to see who it might be and was quite taken aback.  A young man, or apparently so, long hair, but dressed very snazzily all in black.  Pale yes, but not your usual goth, no, much more dramatic, bohemian one might say. A wide brimmed hat, tilted over one eye, and a cloak of all things!  Who wears a cloak in this day and age? she mused.  An actor perhaps? On his way home from the theatre?  An artist possibly. A poser or eccentric? And is there a difference? Liz chuckled to herself at the thought.

Whoever he was, he was looking at her, quite obviously interested.  Liz was unsure whether or not to speak and so just gave a small smile, friendly but not overly so. Easy does it, she told herself, don't go overboard.

"Ma'am," he intoned, raising his hat with a flourish and bowing low.

Ohhh that voice!  Did she detect a slight trace of an accent?  European, perhaps. And the tone was low, husky, warm. She shivered, briefly. 

"Um, hello," she replied, feeling somewhat tongue-tied.  Awkwardness was radiating from her in waves.  She was not usually shy but this man was different from the usual pathetic creatures she tended to meet.  Romantic without a doubt. And lord knows, she admitted to herself, I'm a sucker for romantics.

"Can I help you in some way?" she went on, hoping against hope that he would say yes.

His face lit up as a lazy smile spread across it, making his eyes crinkle at the corners, and a humorous twinkle positively shone out of them.

Liz's knees were now feeling quite weak.  Yes, no prizes for guessing. She wanted this man. Oh, how she wanted him.


"It is late for you to be out alone, ma'am. May I walk you to your home or wherever you are going? Just to keep away unwanted attention. No strings,"
he assured her, smiling again.

"Why!" she positively simpered, "Yes, you may!"

It was still a good distance to her home and she was unusually impatient.  Not prepared to wait so long, her desire rising by the minute, she halted at the first hotel they came to and, beckoning with her head, invited him to enter with her.

His eyes were now smouldering with desire. She could feel the heat of his body and smell his masculine odour and her mouth was becoming dry as her breathing deepened.

She booked a room from the bored looking desk clerk, took the key he proffered and almost ran up the stairs to the room on the floor above.  Taking  the key from her hand, her handsome would-be defender opened the door. 

Trembling now with anticipation, and licking her dry thirsting lips, Liz entered behind him and looked briefly around the room.  It was simply furnished, but clean.  A bed, a dressing table. a small en suite bathroom.  Good. 

The two stood for a few moments just looking at each other, taking in every detail, then moved closer, mouths meeting, hot, hungry. Breath coming harder now, desire taking over entirely.

After a short time Liz pulled herself away from his lips and ran her hands lightly up his back, then entwined her fingers in his long hair and pulled gently but determinedly downwards until he sank to his knees. He gasped in anticipation, ragged breaths making his chest heave.

Wasting no more time, she bent down, pulled his head back, closed her eyes, and sank her teeth into his now prominent jugular vein....


© 2009
Christine Stromberg