A lesson of another color.
Crimson’s Crown knights me.
The hallowed winds send a chilling warning, premature on this day of Augusta’s month. Partnered with hours of rain blanketed in fog, I feel the veil thin.
Walking the night streets of New Orleans without fanfare, in days past when crimson trickled the city sewers unnoticed.
I knew soon I would be joined in walk by the undead, a common occurrence each ween, still this year already had a different feel to it, one of apprehension.
A woman of beauty was the first to greet me along the way, alive in every aspect I could determine, her incisors did appear sharper than average, but her sensuality dampened all concern like the drops from the sky.
She had a way about her, slow in motion to tease want to surface, simmering just below a boil. She motivates me down St. Charles Avenue, unbeknownst to me with destination and demise in mind.
Unsnapping and zipping to keep my focus intense without regard for where we are or where we’ll be, leaning me against a mature Lafayette Cemetery tree facing the crypt. Smiling all the while giving me eye fulls of outstanding body view.
The moonlight bathes her nakedness in glow as she slides her hands to redirect blood flow while nibbling my neck nape softly.
As I approach release, she punctures my neck feeding from the crimson flow, my legs give way to climax. After an eternity of sucking, she pauses realizing I am still conscious, then stands back in confusion.
I wipe my neck clean with the lace handkerchief I brought along, then tenderly place it on her breast. When she reaches to retrieve it I draw her near in a tight embrace.
I hear the faint snapping of ancient neck bone as I feed her life until nothing but ash remains. Such a pity, she was so beautiful, the hunger cares little once awakened.
I zip up and return on my night walk, a little calmer, a little more satisfied it is the start of a great season.
