ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
The Offering
By trancer
"What do you want?" She asked, peering over the lip of her martini glass.
"What do you mean?" Britt lowered her own glass onto the table. Darting her eyes from the woman's heated gaze and focusing on her thumbs as they worried around the lip of her own glass.
"I mean," she paused, waiting until Britt lifted her eyes and met her gaze. "Women like you.."
"Women like me?" Britt cut her off.
"You don't seem like the type who'd haunt a place like this."
She was right. This wasn't her kind of place. A dive bar on the East side of town, with wood paneling on the walls, vinyl seats patched together with duct tape and 70's rock blasting from a banged up jukebox.
But Britt needed to get away. Needed to go somewhere she could disappear, drink herself silly and forget about her problems for a day.
That's when she met her. With her all American girl-next-door looks, dark chestnut hair, hazel eyes, painted on jeans and an even tighter shirt, she strode into the bar looking out of place and like she belonged.
The air changed when she entered the bar. Had Britt not been on her third gin and tonic she might have noticed how the patrons seemed to cower into their seats, their faces turning away from her to avoid contact.
Britt didn't. And when she sat down across from her and offered to buy Britt a drink, Britt didn't refuse because, hey, she was having a very bad day and she really didn't care where her next drink came from. Especially, if she didn't have to pay for it.
"I could say the same about you," Britt slurred, downing the remainder of her glass.
"You could," she took another sip from her glass. "But then, you don't know me."
"And you don't know me!" Britt snapped back.
She smiled, tight lipped and predatory, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward. "But, I do know you. You've lived here your whole life. Always dreaming of something better only to have life kick you in the teeth and hold you back. The High-school Prom Queen who married the All American Quarterback, not because you were the perfect couple, but because he knocked you up in the back of his Dad's Chevy and that's what two good kids like you do.
"Then you sacrificed your dreams for his because it had to get better, right? Except it didn't. He got old and fat. The sex got dull. You haven't had an orgasm in years. He hasn't touched you in years and you won't masterbate because girls like you don't do those kinds of things. And you keep chugging along, working a minimum wage job to supplement your income. Because he thinks being the quarterback of that game twenty years ago still means something. Because his friends who haven't moved on still think of him as a God, and there's always some stupid bitch who'll stroke his ego and suck his cock while you're at home cooking his meals, cleaning up after his shit," she paused, leaning in just a little closer. "Am I wrong?"
Britt winced. It was like having the past twenty years thrown back in her face. She'd hit it on the head, but still missed some of the finer points. The one high point of her life - her daughter. The drunk driver who took it all away. The ten years where she and her husband stayed married but drifted away. And now Jeffrey was starting over with the secretary he'd been fucking for three years on the side. Leaving Britt to pick up the pieces of a life that never got started.
"Fuck you."
"Is that what you want?" She smiled again and Britt felt something twist in the pit of her stomach. "Because I can do that. I can fuck you like he never did, in ways he's too stupid and unimaginative to ever think of. Until your eyes roll into the back of your head, your toes curl and your throat is raw from screaming."
Britt grabbed her purse. She stood on wobbly legs. "This conversation is over."
"Not before you tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck off and leave me alone!"
Britt wiped condensation off the heavily fogged bathroom mirror. She stared at her reflection in the glass. In one month, she'd be forty.
Unlike her husband, time had been good to Britt. She was tall and thin. The hours she spent at the gym continued to pay off. She could see it in the musculature of her arms, the smoothness of her stomach. The breasts weren't as perky as they used to be but they were still full, firm and smooth. Her auburn hair complimented her dark blue eyes, despite the dark circles and paler than normal skin.
She pulled on her robe, not bothering to tie the belt. There was no one to impress, and no one to cover herself from. She opened the door, stepped into the bedroom and froze in her tracks.
She was there. In Britt's home. In Britt's bedroom.
She was sitting on the chair Britt had bought Jeffrey for his thirtieth birthday. In ten years, it had lost its luster. Britt wanted to throw it away.
"You!" She shrieked. "How'd you get into my house? How'd you find me?"
"It wasn't hard." She closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath. "I followed your scent. You are," she paused, exhaling languidly. "Very intoxicating."
"I'm calling the cops." Britt marched towards the phone.
Britt didn't even see her move. One moment, the woman was sitting in Jeffrey's chair, the next, she was standing in front of Britt, her hand wrapped around Britt's wrist.
"Not yet." She guided Britt's hand towards the receiver, setting the phone back down. "Not 'til you tell me what you want."
"I told you.." Britt's eyes locked with the woman's. Suddenly, she felt dizzy, lightheaded, like the world had drifted away and all that remained was the tiny space of floor the two shared.
She stepped closer, sliding her hands inside Britt's robe. Her hands roamed and caressed across Britt's skin, up to her breasts, thumbs grazing across her nipples. Then down the plain of her stomach, curving around the swell of her hips, down her backside and cupping her ass.
She grazed her nose along the line of Britt's neck, inhaling her scent. "You are," she flicked her tongue across the pulse point, feeling Britt shudder. "Incredible."
"Please," Britt panted. It was like she'd lost control of her own body. Her hands were slack at her sides. Her skin flushed and her heart pounded beneath her chest.
"Please what?" She asked, planting butterfly kisses along Britt's jaw. "Do you want money, power, fame? Or.." She pulled her face back, until her eyes locked with Britt's. "Do you want to come for the first time in years?"
Britt swallowed hard, her tongue thick like water soaked cotton. She felt as if she were stuck in another person's body, feeling every sensation and the welling desire within but unable to control herself.
"Tell me your name," Britt's voice said.
"Why?"
"Because I want to scream it when you fuck me." Her body regained control of her hands and they thread into the woman's hair, gripping it tight and pulling her in. Their lips crashed together, hard and hungry. Mouths opened, tongues danced.
"Jasmine," she said after they pulled apart and panted into each other's mouths.
They were on the bed. Like before, Britt had no idea how it happened. One minute they were standing, the next, she was on the bed, Jasmine's hands on her breasts, tweaking her nipples as her head moved lower and lower.
Jeffrey had been Britt's one and only lover. He was a traditional 'missionary with the occasional doggy-style' lover who expected oral sex but never returned the favor. He'd touch her there only for the sake of getting her wet before he stuck it in.
She gasped, arching her back, digging her heels into the matters, at the sensation of Jasmine's tongue on her pussy. It was wet and warm and slippery. And had she known it would feel like that, that it would feel so good. She grit her teeth in anger and frustration, at all the years of pleasure wasted on a man who only knew how to take and no idea how to give.
But, Jasmine did. She licked and lapped, suckled and slurped until Britt was a livewire squirming and writhing beneath her. Then, Jasmine wrapped her lips around Britt's clit, slid two fingers inside her pussy and Britt burst like a dam under too much pressure. Her back bowed, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists, her muscles strained and, as Jasmine predicted, her toes curled.
After Britt collapsed onto the mattress, after the last shudder of her subsiding orgasm, when she thought she'd been drained dry and had no more to give, Jasmine, lips still suckling on Britt's clit, removed her fingers, lowered and pressed them against the tight opening of Britt's ass. And the trembles returned in a gut-clenching, throat rasping ripple cascading across her skin.
Jeffrey had tried. Lord knows, he tried but Britt had always said no. Jeffrey wasn't Jasmine. Jeffrey didn't make her skin burn, her insides clench and her chest to seize. She offered herself to Jasmine in ways she didn't know she was capable of.
"Jesus," Britt panted. "That was amazing."
"Who says that's it?" Jasmine asked. She crawled up onto her knees, her hands moving towards the belt on her jeans. "I'm not done with you. Not by a long shot."
Britt mustered the energy to rise onto her elbows. Jasmine hadn't even taken her clothes off. She watched Jasmine's hands as they worked on her belt, licked her lips as the zipper lowered, wondering what Jasmine tasted like, what she'd feel like. Would she shiver and shudder as Britt had, would she moan or grunt or scream? She looked wild, her hair cascading over and obscuring her face, her eyes nothing but darkened ovals behind the veil. For a second, Britt thought she saw fangs. She was dark and dangerous and Britt wanted her more than she'd wanted anything in her life.
Then, Jasmine's fingers reached into her jeans, pulled out the thick, plastic shaft tucked against her thigh.
"I told you," Jasmine breathed low and huskily, clambering her way back up Britt's body. "I'm going to fuck you like he never could."
Before Britt could think about protesting, Jasmine was inside her. She thrust her hips, quick and deep, grinding her pelvis against Britt's clit, rolling her hips, grinding and thrusting. Britt cried out, hips arching into Jasmine's, her hands sliding under Jasmine's shirt, nails raking across her back.
"Tell me what you want," Jasmine grunted, as if she were holding back from losing control, from letting go. "Tell me."
"I.." Britt strained. It was hard to talk, hard to think with Jasmine inside her, fucking her like it was going out of style. With the friction, the sweat, the skin, the rising crescendo of her orgasm clenching her insides and threatening to explode. "I want.."
"Yes."
"I want," she grit through clenched teeth. "I want a do-over. A second chance. I don't want to grow old and alone."
"Do you want to live forever?"
Britt snorted. "If I could, yeah."
"And what would you give me if I gave it to you?" She rolled her hips harder. "Would you give me your heart, your body, your soul?"
"God," she groaned, low and throaty. It was getting hard to concentrate. She wanted to come. To feel Jasmine's body pressed against hers, to wrap her legs around Jasmine's waist, dig her nails in her back, pull her into her until they became one. Because if Jasmine kept talking, Britt would break her rhythm and she was too close to start all over. "If you keep doing that. I'll give you everything."
"Open your eyes, Britt."
Her eyelids strained like they'd been tied down. She gazed at Jasmine through tiny slits. Jasmine opened her mouth, exhaled a raspy hiss. Britt's eyes widened. There was a disconnect between her eyes and her brain because she couldn't be seeing what she thought she was seeing.
Jasmine's canines grew, extending into long sharp points. Her eyes changed from hazel brown to a blue-ish white.
"Jasmine?" Britt croaked just as Jasmine slammed her mouth down and jammed her teeth into Britt's neck. The pain cascaded down her skin, rippling down her spine and between her legs. Jasmine began thrusting a hard, staccato rhythm. She growled, digging her teeth in, clamping onto Britt's neck like she'd never let go.
It was wrong. Britt knew it. She knew it. She knew she should scream, yell, fight Jasmine off her. But, it was like before, she was entranced, like she'd been fed some drug that made her acquiesce. Made her offer herself to Jasmine, dig her nails into Jasmine's back, arch her hips towards the pounding thrusts, wrap her legs around slender hips. It made her want more because she knew - when she came, it would be the last thing she ever did.
Britt came with a body erupting orgasm that shook her entire being. Her body clenched and spasmed, thighs squeezing around Jasmine's waist holding her inside her, extending the sensation for as long as her body would allow. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her mouth screamed silently. It was the best orgasm of her life. And then -
It was over.
Britt awoke two days later. Face down on the mattress, sheets glued to her skin with dried sweat. She would have thought it was all a bad dream caused by too much drinking if it weren't for the two puncture wounds on her neck.
She took three days off from work, the first time she'd called in sick in five years. Because if she didn't she knew her co-workers would insist on her seeing a doctor. Her skin was sickly pale, dark circles hung under her eyes. She couldn't drink water without getting nauseous. She couldn't even think about eating without wanting to throw up. She wore sunglasses to shield her eyes from the burning sensation.
When she slept, Britt had the strangest of dreams. Dreams of blood and teeth, an unquenchable thirst, of places she'd never been to. She dreamt of bodies - hundreds of them, packed together and indistinguishable from the other, naked, soaked in sweat, writhing, squirming, moaning, fucking, coming. The air around them wet and hot, choked with the scent of sex.
She dreamt of Jasmine. Her hair loose about her face, her eyes wild and feral, teeth bared, fangs gleaming as she dipped between Britt's thighs.
Eventually, Britt recovered. The wounds disappeared. Her skin returned to normal. Even her fevered dreams dissipated into unimaginative fantasies where Britt's imagination couldn't match the intensity of the ones before.
The days turned to weeks, to months. Britt tried to get on with her life. She continued with her job. A brief flirtation with the dating scene to take her mind away from her impending divorce and remind herself she still had what it takes. Ten years her junior, his name was Aaron. He was tall and handsome, corn-fed Iowa looks with sandy blonde hair, brown eyes and square jaw.
A couple drinks to muster her courage, and lower her inhibitions, she flashed a thigh, smiled flirtatiously and he was hers. She wanted him because she wanted to forget herself for awhile. Instead, it just reminded her of Jasmine. The hands that groped her breasts in the bathroom stall, fumbling and amateurish. The whiskers that scraped her face when they kissed instead of smooth skin.
She offered herself to him. And he entered her. But he wasn't Jasmine. He smelled, tasted, felt different. It made her feel empty, created a gnawing hunger within her. A hunger that went beyond desire, beyond lust, beyond the need for casual sex in a dive bar bathroom.
She pressed her mouth to his neck, sank her teeth into his flesh. He grunted an expletive, mumbling something about older women being hot. Britt sank her teeth deeper. She felt the skin break and the taste of crimson in her mouth. She didn't hear him scream. She didn't realize anything had gone wrong until she was thrown against the wall. Her head smacked against the tile.
He held a hand to his bleeding neck, the other stretched outwards creating a barrier between himself and the crazy woman in the bathroom stall.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Hello Britt," Jasmine's voice purred in her ear through the phone.
"What the fuck did you do to me?" She growled into the receiver. It had been weeks since the incident at the bar. He'd required stitches. A couple millimeters deeper, she'd been told, and she would have killed him. He hadn't pressed charges. Come to find out, he was married and wanted to keep his little indiscretion under wraps.
The dreams returned. Feverish and intense, dreams so real Britt found herself waking in a pool of sweat with the sensation of phantom hands, fingers, tongues still tingling across her flesh.
Unlike before, instead of decreasing in intensity they increased. They were darker and violent as they were erotic. Britt would wake up in a cold sweat, the taste of blood on her tongue and hand bringing her to orgasm between her legs.
She stopped sleeping. It was a futile pursuit but she chased anyway. She hadn't seen Jasmine in months and, still, the woman haunted her. A spirit she couldn't dispossess herself of because, deep down, Britt still wanted her.
"What did you do to me?" She asked again.
"I gave you what you wanted."
"Bullshit!"
"I hurts doesn't it?" Jasmine whispered. "The hunger?"
"Yes," Britt sighed. She pressed a hand on the kitchen counter, leaning her weight onto it. She'd been so tired lately. Tired and hungry. She wanted something she couldn't understand, couldn't quantify. It gnawed at her insides, made her antsy, nervous, tense and exhausted all at the same time because nothing she did, work, food, sex, alcohol, filled the void.
"I can end it for you."
HangupBritthangupBritthangupBritt, the tiny voice screamed in the back of her mind. This was wrong. What Jasmine did to her was wrong. But the hunger was stronger, her need for Jasmine was stronger, stronger than her resolve which dissipated and reformed as a pulsing ache between her thighs.
Britt swallowed hard. "How?"
The mill had closed over twenty-five years ago and taken the town's economy with it. Her father had worked at the mill all his adult life. Two years after it closed, he passed away as if closing the mill had taken his purpose for living.
The city couldn't afford to tear it down so it sat wasting away - decayed by time, torn apart by scavengers, defiled by drunken teenagers.
She drove her car over the cracked and broken road, passed the skeletal remains of discarded machinery. She parked her car in front of the main entrance to the mill. Its doors had long been ripped off.
She'd brought a flashlight but found she didn't need it. Over the weeks, her senses had amplified, sharpened. She could hear clearer, could hear conversations a block away clear as a bell. She had to buy new clothes even though she couldn't afford it because everything in her closet made her skin itch. Her eyesight had improved. Shapes in the distance were sharp and focused. The sliver of moon that peaked through the clouds might as well have been a giant spotlight. Scents were stronger, more intense.
And Britt smelled blood.
It was faint. Nothing more than a trickle, fresh, warm and coppery. The hunger hit her like a wave. She stumbled to a standstill, closing her eyes, craning back her neck and inhaling deeply. The vibrations from her shudders wracked her to her very core. Until she was wet and horny and.. hungry.
Entranced, Britt followed the scent. She strode through the mill purposely, without a stumble or a misstep, as if she knew the floor and its winding corridors by heart.
With every step, the scent became stronger, her hunger deepened, her desire increased. She knew Jasmine would be at the end of the trail. Jasmine would end this. Jasmine would make her feel like she did before. Except -
Jasmine wasn't alone.
Britt entered a large, cavernous room. Moonlight poured through the roof where the tin slats had rotted away. Weeds grew through the cracks in the stone floor.
And Jeffrey sat in the center of the room.
He sat in a chair, his hands bound behind his back. His ankles strapped tightly with duct tape to the legs of the chair. His shirt had been torn open. Blood from open wounds on his face trickled down onto his chest.
"Jeffrey," Britt gasped, knocking her out of her trance.
"Britt?" He blinked suddenly jerking to life. He squirmed in his chair. "Get me out of here! She's fucking crazy!"
"Who?"
"Hello, Britt," Jasmine stepped out of the shadows. She was nude, the first time Britt had seen her naked outside her dreams. Her eyes were white. Fangs gleamed under the pale moonlight. Specks of blood, Jeffrey's blood, dotted her skin.
"What's going on?"
"I'm giving you what you want."
"You did this?" Jeffrey yelled.
"Shut up, Jeffrey!" Jasmine backhanded him across the face. His head snapped back then slumped forward.
Britt gasped, brought her hands up to cover her mouth. He'd started bleeding again. "I don't want this."
"But, you do." Jasmine stepped towards her, closed the distance between them and Britt could feel the heat of her body. She pressed her hand onto Britt's chest. "You've been wanting to get out of this town for years only to have something hold you back. You've been waiting for permission and I'm giving it to you. And I can give you so much more." Her hand trailed down to Britt's breast, fingers grazing over the erect nipple. "You've already seen it - money, power, men and women at your feet," she squeezed the nipple tightly between her fingers making Britt hiss. "Begging to pleasure you, begging to fuck you."
Britt groaned at the thigh pressed between her legs, the subtle tease of friction. "I can't."
"You already have." She brought her hand up to Britt's lips. She caressed the lips open, grazing a fingertip over Britt's teeth.
Suddenly, Britt tasted blood. She explored her mouth with her tongue. Her eyes widened at the sensation of her own canines, slightly longer than they were before and sharp as daggers.
"It's not like in the movies," Jasmine explained. "Where a single bite turns you. No, you have to feed to complete the transformation."
Britt remembered the night in the bar, the sudden primordial urge to sink her teeth into his neck.
Jasmine stepped back. She circled around Jeffrey, grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head up. "Consider this an offering."
"Jesus," he whimpered. "Britt please."
Jasmine yanked his head back, she leaned down turning her eyes towards his. "Do you want to tell her how we met or should I?" She turned her head to face Britt. "We met at a bar. He offered to.. What was it again? Oh yes, fuck me until I saw God. Do you think that was the first time he used that line? Do you think it's just one woman he was stepping out on you with?"
"Is it true?" Britt knew she didn't have to ask the question. She knew it. Some part of her always knew it. And she'd willfully blinded herself not to see it.
"Britt, she's fucking crazy!"
"This is what you offered yourself for?" Disgusted, Jasmine released her grip and shoved Jeffrey's head away. "What I can give you is so much more. You'll never grow old. You'll never be alone," she paused. "You'll never be taken for granted."
Jeffrey was a cheating, selfish asshole but he didn't deserve to die. But, Britt thought to herself, neither did she which is what she felt would happen if she turned away. Back to the dying town, her minimum wage job, the empty house filled with nothing but memories. The hunger, the offer, was life.
Britt chose hers over Jeffrey's.
She straddled his hips, ignored his protestations. Thread her fingers into his hair, embraced him as she'd done hundreds of times before, back when she loved him, when she cared about him and his false promises of a future that never came to fruition.
Her teeth weren't long and thick like Jasmine's, but they worked. Jeffrey screamed when she pierced his flesh. Britt hugged him tighter, sank her teeth deeper. His blood, thick and warm and salty, pulsed into her mouth. She could feel herself getting dizzy, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her body convulsed and shuddered, her hips undulated on his thigh. In the final throes of death, Jeffrey gave her something he hadn't in a long time - an orgasm.
"The sun's coming up," Britt moaned, rolling onto her back and stretching. She'd taken Jeffrey and, afterwards, Jasmine had taken her. The old Britt would have been disgusted at the idea of sex on an old cement floor. This Britt didn't care. She had Jasmine now. She'd offered herself. And this time, she'd receive something she'd thought impossible - a life of possibilities instead of closed doors and disappointment.
"Yes, it is," Jasmine smiled, stroking Britt's stomach with her hand.
"Shouldn't we, you know, take cover or something?"
"You have a lot to learn." She rolled on top of Britt, connected their mouths with a slow, lingering kiss. "The good news is," she pulled their lips apart and began a descent down Britt's chest, "you have eternity to find out."
The End