the color of dead fish floating atop poisoned water, almost making me wish I had not ordered her to disrobe.
She joined me on the bed and again attempted to unbutton my shirt. I gently pushed her hand away.
"Whatdo you want me to do for you?" she asked again, her tone more insistent.
"I want you to pleasure yourself."
"You want me to whack myself off?"
I groaned inwardly. "Yes. I want you to pleasure yourself fully and completely."
"That's it?"
"That is all I require, but I do meanfully and completely ."
She nodded then lay back on the bed, her hand lowered to the cleft between her legs. I moved close, reached a hand around her shoulders and stroked her stomach and pillow-like breasts with my other hand, feeling her skin, which was surprisingly soft and smooth.
Though her perfume was garish, the skin underneath smelled sweet, and her womanhood smelled strong. Beneath it all, her heart beat loudly and with increasing frequency as she worked harder and harder toward the ascribed goal. Her breathing grew deeper and more rapid, and she let forth the occasional moan and grunt.
"Please take your time, my dear," I said. "There is no need to rush."
The woman nodded, her breathing increasingly rapid and shallow.
I continued to stroke her back, but once she settled into a rapid rhythm of finger strokes and short, quick breaths, I stopped fondling her breasts and laid a hand on her stomach until she began to pant rapidly, before letting out a loud, guttural shriek.
Her body shook, and I gently tugged her chin toward me, met her gaze and touched her consciousness. Her expression went blank.
I plunged my fangs into her neck, their razor touch penetrating her soft flesh. Hot blood squirted down my throat.
The room faded from my sight, replaced by hard, static blankness, the blankness of one with no soul who had deceived quite the gullible consumer.
After licking the twin rivulets of blood dribbling down her throat, I departed, her bitter taste burning through my being. Far from being sated, I was hungrier than ever before and angry with myself, knowing that in an effort to control my hunger, I had only succeeded in opening Pandora's Box.
****
I quickly discovered that these cab drivers are quite the superstitious lot; though making money depends on a certain amount of luck, skill is paramount, yet so many of my fellow drivers, Kern included, seemed to hold in reverence supreme beings called the "Cab Gods." When running deep east to deep west, then getting a call nearby, going another long distance, the Cab Gods had smiled. In less fortunate times, as they say in their vulgar manner, they had been "fucked by the Cab Gods." And Eastern belief seemed to play a certain role, albeit in a childish sense of instant Karma; according to many, the Cab Gods' whims are somewhat related to the actions of the drivers.
But who was I to argue? Certainly, it was the Cab Gods who had smiled upon us again in late-March, providing an unexpected storm, dropping eight inches of that crystalline white-gold onMadison 's streets, as if the bounty of this winter had not been enough. The driving was difficult for two days, but by Saturday night, the streets were clear and dry, yet the snow remained, providing people with enough incentive to leave the task of driving to the professionals who do it best.
On Saturday, the Cab Gods provided me with quite the lucrative shift, thus creating the kind of distraction necessary to take my mind off Frank Nelson and my burgeoning hunger. I had pleased our patron deities by showing up two hours prior to the eight o'clock start time for my shift.
The Cab Gods rewarded my diligence immediately, seeing that my calls criss-crossed the far reaches of the city and always taking care that another excellent call would be available upon discharging my passengers.
Even when the string of calls had snapped, and I was downtown with not much to occupy my disturbed mind, the Cab Gods provided me with a fine flower that had been hidden in cow dung, seeing fit to send me a flag who desired to go all the way to East Towne Mall and back.
Still, despite my efforts, no amount of largesse from the Cab Gods could distract me, nor could the lovely staccato rhythm of rapidly spinning wheels striking the pavement as the cab sped to yet another call. The hunger was real and action was mandatory.
Despite my better judgment screaming in protest, I