Blushed

May 5, 2018
Clara ran her fingers through silk smooth hair and clutched a handful the thick black mane. The man in the soiled tan suit was limp against the tile wall. He was bent down by the neck by his knit tie to accommodate the smaller woman's lips. The Daeva leaned into the Kiss.

The rush of blood made the back of her head tingle with dizzying lightness. Her cheeks burned furnace-hot and her fangs dug deeper with each swallow of precious blood from her hapless prey. Clara took one last pull and parted her Kiss from the man's pale neck. Twin mini-marbles of crimson formed and Clara licked away the punctures with two slow, deliberate strokes of her cherry-red tongue. She helped him gently onto the linoleum floor.

His chest rose and sank with deep breaths and his blank eyes tried to keep track of the figure re-applying her face in the mirror. The man fell into a deep sleep bathed in the afterglow of, to his addled mind, a primo hook up. Clara checked her breath and caught the heavy scent of iron. No making out tonight she thought as she let her tongue run along her fangs with a hum and squirm in delight at the taste of residual liquid life.

Clara focused on her reflection to bring the blur in the mirror into focus, checked her understated make-up, and sashayed out of the restroom after flushing the toilet. Leaves was sitting at the bar. His big gray-green eyes were glued to his phone. His lips broke into a goofy smile when Clara took her seat next to him. “Hey! You were here alrea—wow. You look. So. Good.” Leaves' staring made Clara's cheeks flush with something other than vitae. “It was number two, yeah?” He asked with self-satisfied snark and a nod to the bathroom in the back.

Clara playfully punched his arm and changed the subject. They laughed and, as two nervous strangers at bars do, asked only unimportant questions of each other. Hours passed and the bartender scooped up an abandoned half-empty mug of warm beer. “Anyone see the big guy?” She asked holding up the mug. The only other patron muttered ignorance.

Leaves shrugged. Clara coaxed concern into her voice and feigned surprise. “Oh! He went into the bathroom after me.” She sighed before finishing, “He didn't look good.”

“Larry? He had a beer,” she said with annoyed disbelief.

Clara shrugged, but the patron at the end of the bar said, “Might be best to see anyhow, Sarah. Want I should help?” The woman behind the bar shook her head as if to say she wouldn't check.

After a beat, she groaned and marched to the bathroom. Clara and Leaves left crumpled bills on the counter. They walked out onto the streets and, far behind her, Clara heard the bartender sigh and say “At least you didn't blow chunks on my floor this time, bud.” Leaves reached for her hand; Clara let her fingers hook into his grip.

Hand in hand, the two talked about nothing under the halo of the street light glow of the Sacramento suburb.