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You're beginning to wonder if coming to a bar alone on a Saturday night was such a good idea. It's noisy, it's crowded, and most of the crowd seems already divided up into couples. But, you reason as you swirl what remains of your first and only drink, your mate is out of town and won't be back till Monday, and you feel you deserve a little fun. Of course, a movie might have been a better choice. At least there you could have had popcorn... with butter. Then you see him. He's sitting alone at a table across the room. You almost do a double-take. He's so striking you wonder why you haven't noticed him before. It's not that he's handsome... not really. His hair is a dark brown and shoulder length, which makes his thin face look even thinner, and his mustache is narrow and long, like something out of those late-night movies with Fu Manchu. He is wearing nothing but black, from his soft clingy shirt to jeans to shiny knee-high boots. When he stands, he looks to be about six feet tall, but it's difficult to judge because his body is so narrow and lean. As he looks your way, you notice something else about him - his eyes are a brilliant emerald green - so bright you wonder how they could possibly be natural. But somehow he doesn't look like the kind of guy who would wear colored contacts. As he turns those strange eyes on you, you begin to feel uncomfortable - rather like a bug on a pin. He has obviously noticed you staring and is now moving toward you. You look around rapidly, but there is no one else near you. Should you run? Well, maybe not run, but try to make as dignified an exit as possible? I mean, what must he be thinking, catching you staring with your mouth open. But it is much too late; he is already crossing the crowded bar, surprisingly quickly. His slender body moves gracefully, his boots not making a sound. He stops in front of you, not more than a meter away... touching distance! Your heart starts to pound as he smiles at you. It's more of a simple contraction of the muscles around his thin lips than a grin - but it brightens his eyes until you don't want to, almost can't, look away. Gazing into the full force of those eyes, you feel like the most wonderful, the most beautiful, in fact, the only person in the world for him. It's an intoxicating feeling, having this man focus on you so completely. His smile is doing a lot more for you than the small amount of alcohol you've had tonight. You feel yourself relaxing and smiling back. It seems quite natural when he takes your hand and pulls you out of your chair. There are couples on the dance floor and you realize you wouldn't mind having his arms around you, in spite of the fact that dancing was the one thing you swore to yourself you weren't going to do tonight. Keeping hold of your hand, he puts an arm around your waist. Before you know it, he's whirling you effortlessly, his arms tightening around you, the beat of the music becoming one with the thump of your heart throbbing in your ears. His face is so close, his breath sweet, his body smelling of musk and exotic, unidentifiable spices. His shirt feels silky under your fingertips, the smooth muscles of his back slide easily beneath your hand. He goes on smiling, and you are happily lost in those forest green eyes. Without knowing how it happened, you are suddenly outside the bar in the cool darkness of the evening. The chill air is clean and welcome in your lungs. The dancing has left you dizzy and you feel you might fall if not for his arms still wrapped around you. There is no sound of traffic, no pedestrians or bright lights to intrude on the little world that surrounds the two of you. His eyes stay open as he softly presses his lips to yours, so you try to keep yours open too. His eyes seem to grow larger and larger, blending into one liquid green pool of peace and comfort. You feel a cool pressure as his mobile tongue enters your mouth. It's enough to send a jolt of fiery heat from your lips all the way to the center of your body, igniting everything in its path. The shadowy parking lot at the side of the building seems far more inviting than it should. You are glad when he pushes you back against the hard metal of a strange van for another brief kiss. Your breath comes faster as you feel him unbuttoning your shirt. His strong, long fingered hand finds its way inside the cloth to caress your nipples until your knees are weak. You hear yourself moan with delight. The button and zipper of your jeans are next. You would gladly help him if you could, but his hands are deft at their task and the pants soon slip down. He turns you gently until your cheek is against the window, your palms braced against the smoothness of metal. You close your eyes to better savor the feeling of his mouth. His lips nibble softly, then his tongue slides its way over your shoulder, leaving a cool wet trail all the way up to your jaw. The sensation makes you shiver. A small sharp pain lances into your throat, but it doesn't seem to matter and is over almost before it has begun - to be replaced by the sensuous feeling of his lips molding to your neck and his tongue lapping at the sudden heat. You hear his low muffled groan and feel his hardness press against you. His hand slips between your legs to touch and stroke your most private parts. The sensation is so intense you feel you might cum at any moment, and yet it seems endless... perfect... and you want it to go on and on. You are shocked when you feel him pulled roughly away from you. Cruel laughter and brutish voices shatter the peace of the night. Reality slams painfully back with the slap that spins you around to face an ugly giant of a man. He wraps one huge hand around your throat, lifting you almost off your feet, and then lets go - only to laugh as you fall to the pavement, feet hobbled by your jeans. Terrified, you cringe away as he draws back a steel-toed boot. And then he is gone. You can't quite believe your eyes as you watch the big man flying through the air, wondering at his oddly high-pitched scream. There is a penetrating crash as he lands, sprawling, in the overflowing dumpster twenty feet away. Between the rows of parked cars the green-eyed man is a raging fury, growling as he grapples with a second leather-clad intruder. You see the flash of a blade in the heavier man's hand, but it is soon snapped and tossed disdainfully to the ground. The third and last interloper flees, running rapidly down the street as he watches his second companion thud heavily atop the first one that's still writhing in the dumpster. All is quiet again, but everything has changed. You've managed to stand and pull up your jeans, but the man who crouches braced and ready for more trouble is not the tender seducer of a few moments before. The expression on his face is wild and terrible. The cords in his neck stand out like steel cables. His fingers are spread like claws, and there is something subtly wrong with his snarling mouth. You look around, hoping that someone has called the police and all this strangeness will become someone else's responsibility. But in spite of the previous screams and crashes, the night is quiet again - undisturbed by the wail of sirens. Suddenly, the adrenaline that has sustained you runs out, and your legs feel like overcooked spaghetti. Just when you think you can't stand up any longer, he is there beside you, one strong arm supporting you. Your eyes widen with fear, and he reacts to it, calming himself immediately, making no sudden moves, just slowly bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. You laugh shakily, touching a dark smear on the side of his face. Did one of those guys hurt him? But he takes your hand, brings the fingers to his mouth and licks away the stickiness. The sensation is erotic, but also somehow comforting - like a mother washing a beloved child. His face is no longer frightening, but wears again the gentle expression you remember. You stand quietly as his hands tenderly straighten and refasten your clothes. He urges you to walk a few feet, and then you are lifted and placed gently on the passenger seat of a car you are surprised to recognize as your own. The pesky engine that fights you every morning starts immediately at his touch and the feeling of safety, of peace, returns. You relax against the seat belt, content to let him take you where he will. Streetlights move hypnotically past as you relax and then doze. It seems only a moment before you are being helped out of the car and led toward the security of your own doorway. He unlocks the door and places your keys in your hand. Holding your eyes with his own, he kisses your cheek gently, then turns to go. But you don't want him to leave! You grab his arm before he can disappear into the night. His face turns back to you, one patrician eyebrow raised thoughtfully. You surprise yourself by laughing out loud. He reminds you of Star Trek's Mr. Spock. You push the door open wider and tug him in after you, then close and lock it securely. One creature of the night is all that you are willing to play host to right now. You turn back to find him waiting patiently. The slightly puzzled expression on his face is quite a turn-on. You remember how those hands and mouth made you feel, not so very long ago. You step up to him, putting your arms around him and pulling him closer. It is only a moment before he responds; embracing you with enthusiasm and kissing you firmly, this time using his tongue and lips in a way that makes you forget whatever might have come before. Breathlessly, you place a hand on his chest and tell him your name. It doesn't make any sense, but you somehow just want him to know it. His arms still around you, he regards you curiously, head tilted a little to one side. That slow smile starts again, and his voice sounds deep and vibrant - just like you knew it would - when he says, "Some have called me Vlad." A different sort of name for an unusual man, you think. It sounds familiar somehow, though you can't remember just why. It occurs to you that you should be polite and offer him something to drink... then you remember, and your hand flies protectively up to your neck. He shakes his head, "No, not if you do not wish it." Somehow, you believe him. He won't ask you to do anything you don't want to do. So... what do you want? You let your fingertips explore the skin of his face. Feeling very brave, you touch his lips, finding them velvety soft in contrast to his cheeks' taut smoothness. You remember how those lips felt on your throat. The very tip of his surprisingly red tongue slips out to moisten your fingers. Trying not to think too much, you unbutton your shirt and push the collar away from your throat. He watches intently, at last locking eyes with you - that cool emerald green gaze washing over you like a tropical heat wave. Your breathing accelerates. You close your eyes and feel the shirt peeled quickly away from your body, hear it land on the floor. The jeans are next; you gratefully step out of them, along with your shoes and underwear. You feel only the lovely lascivious warmth of his hands. They seem to be everywhere at once, long fingers exciting shivers of pleasure in every intimate part of your body. There is one tiny pinch of pain, then liquid warmth flows from the touch of his mouth at your throat, runs like lava through your veins, settles south of your navel with almost painful intensity. His weight presses you down on softness. You cry out, a wordless whimper of delight, as you feel his hardness penetrate your body. His groan is smothered by his lips still tight against your throat. The two sensations at once are almost too much, the suction at your neck and the feel of his hard shaft moving inside you. You press against him ecstatically, wrapping your legs around his waist. He moves faster, muscles straining, breath hot on your neck. Your every muscle trembles, your back arches, as you feel the electric explosion of orgasm illuminating every cell of your body from your head to your toes. You pray it will never end. Then your body short-circuits, and the lights go out... and then there is nothing at all. You wake to the sun shining directly into your eyes, as it does every morning when you forget to close the blinds. Squinting and swearing under your breath, you get out of bed to close them. As you become more awake, memory of the night before floods back. But the green-eyed man is not in the bedroom or anywhere else in your home. You can find nothing to prove he was ever there - not even when you convince yourself that it isn't totally stupid to look under the bed. All the locks on the doors, even the chain that can only be applied from the inside, are still in place. Taking a quick personal inventory, you notice you do have a few unaccustomed aches and pains - and those in some very interesting places. But there has to be another logical explanation for that... doesn't there? Finally, sitting alone at the breakfast table, hoping the caffeine in your favorite drink will chase the rest of the cobwebs away, you decide that the whole experience was nothing but a fantasy - with a large dose of wish fulfillment thrown in. Smiling, you rub a hand over your face... and what a fantasy it was. You smile. You had no idea your imagination was that creative. But when your hand touches the side of your neck... is something there? You almost run to the bathroom, turn on all the lights and peer closely into the mirror. Yes! There are two little marks on the side of your neck - right where you remember feeling his mouth... maybe even his teeth! You weren't dreaming! As you reach up to touch them, the tiny scabs - if that's what they were - fall into the sink and disappear. You stare even closer, but your throat now looks completely ordinary again. You sigh, rubbing your neck... thinking. Then, shrugging philosophically, you smile. Fantasy or not, you know you won't soon forget those eyes. And just maybe... the next time you feel the need for a night out ...
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