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                   {ASSM} Vampyre Daze story so far…
                   [Yotna El'toub] (F/F, F/f, f/f, inc, MC)
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WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language of
an adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal age to
do so. If you are a minor or object to stories of an adult nature,
LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is 18+ please
abide to your own local laws. Please note and understand the
content codes for this story.

The characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in
my story.  Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental
and unintentional. The characters and situations portrayed are pure
fantasy; the author is keen to state that in reality adult
sexuality should remain only in the adult world. Please do not allow
or cause this story to fall in to the hands of minors.
____________________________________________________________________

Chapter one: Wicked!

A sea mist rose slowly off the placid surface of the calm sea,
and the darkening sun hung, paused in its slow western descent. The
moment hung too, an idyllic hiatus in the flurry of life. The
coastline was deserted except for one sole, slim, figure. The
olive-skinned girl watched the sunset in silence; she gazed at
the western horizon. Her sullen eyes flickered, watching
the sea birds dive for food, far beyond the craggy shoreline rocks.

Lalo sighed, her heart sank, and she wondered if she would ever
understand her longing for the west. What was it that called to her?
Was it the southern tip of Ireland, the Scilly Isles? Whatever it
was the pull was strong, strong and dark.

An involuntary shiver ran down her supple spine. Tears stung at her
young eyes - she must keep this to herself, mum for one would never
understand. Lalo remembered the countless arguments her restlessness
had caused over the years. Why wouldn't her mum let her travel?
Just what was her problem?

A deep sigh racked Lalo's young frame, and frowning she turned her
back on the lapping sea. She began her long trudge up the cliff. Her
face brightened; she had remembered that her dad would be back
tonight. Things were always happier when he was there, and the
small family was complete.

		------------------------------------

Maldea worked industriously cleaning every inch of her beloved kitchen.
As she scrubbed she hummed a simple lullaby from her childhood. She
was happy; soon Jeff would be home and the weekend could begin in
earnest. Maldea heard the door slam, followed by the TV resonating
from the living room.

"Hi honey, is that you?" Maldea called out.

"Nope mum, it's me," Lalo shouted back.

"Hi, have a good day at school?"

"Oh you know, nothing special!" Lalo paused, "What's for tea?"

"Pasta with a fresh Bolognese sauce," Maldea shouted over the
increasing din of MTV.

"K, I'm gonna shower in a minute - if I have time?" Lalo asked.

"No problemo, plenty of time - 45 minutes or so."

The conversation petered out, and Maldea started to prepare
the vegetables. Just as her knife reached the ripe skin of the first
tomato, her heart froze. Icy hands gripped her spine, as her ears
heard a long forgotten song. She swung away from the work surface,
and almost ran into the living room. In front of her daughter
the female band cavorted on the screen, in a display of wanton flesh.
Maldea tore the remote out of Lalo's hand and switched off the TV,
disgust written all over her pretty face.

"Hey I was watching that!" Lalo protested.

"You are too young to be interested in that!" Maldea almost spat
her words.

"True, the Bitches are more your era than mine, but I do know
about that stuff - and it doesn't interest me!”

"What stuff, come on what stuff!" Maldea demanded.

"You know, lesbianism - they talk about it in PSE at school, I
think Cath Hebbert may be one..."

"It's not about that - it's about them," Maldea's voice calmed a
little.

"Bullshit! You are just a homophobe," Lalo shouted, she immediately
gulped.

Maldea exploded.

"How dare you speak to me that way, you are not with your friends
now, young lady!" Maldea paused for effect. "I'm grounding you this
weekend."

"That's great, I wouldn't want to go anywhere around here anyway -
the only place I want to go is New York!"

"Never, I have told you - NEVER!" Maldea sucked in her breath.

"Why? It's where you and dad come from, where I was born - why not?"
Lalo asked, tears of frustration rolling down her face.

"You wouldn't understand - you can never know. I have to protect
you," Maldea raged.

"Well a bit of New York is coming here, Les Bitches are doing a
European tour," Lalo paused, "And I'm going to see them at
Bristol."

"You are not! Who gave you that idea?" Maldea paused to wipe the
sweat from her brow. "Over my dead body!"

"Fine!" screamed Lalo, as she raced to the stairs, "Just fine!"

Maldea stood alone, fuming.

"Shit!"

                 -------------------------------

Jeff positioned the car carefully on the rutted driveway; slowly
but accurately he guided it down a hundred yards of steep incline.
Finally he relaxed as the Beamer slid into the garage.

'Home at last, god why do we live somewhere this remote?’
Jeff wondered, `Is there still a need?'

He flipped down the garage door with a resounding clunk, then all
was still - just the slow lapping of the sea at the base of the 
cliff. Jeff stood listening for a long recuperative second.

'There are compensations, I can still hear the Atlantic when I
need it most' he thought, as a smile played on his weary face.

"Hi Maldea, Lalo - I'm home!" Jeff called, stepping through
the threshold.

Maldea rushed up and pecked his sallow cheek, greeting him.

"God am I glad to see you,"

"Hey, what's up?" Jeff queried.

"Later, just get a drink and relax, dinner is in five minutes"
Maldea grinned.

Jeff shrugged and walked off to the drinks cabinet. He pulled
out his favourite bourbon and poured a liberal shot; something
told him he was going to need it!

Dinner passed in the uneasy politeness that told Jeff where the
problem lay. It was all too obvious that Maldea and Lalo had
fallen out; was he to play referee yet again? When the
meal ended, Lalo made what seemed like a tactical withdrawal.

"Night dad, mum - see you in the morning."

"Niters La La, sleep well," Jeff cooed at his daughter.

Lalo smiled, and touched Jeff once on the shoulder, then she
was gone.

"You are not going to believe this," Maldea started, "Do you
know what she wants to do now?"

Half way to the drinks cabinet Jeff paused.

"Do you want one too?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, please honey, vodka and tonic - make it a large one!"

Jeff settled into the sofa, wrapped a supportive arm around
Maldea and waited. Over the next half hour he listened to the
sorry tale without comment.

Finally he spoke.

"Think about it, Maldea, that has to be wrong. They have never
left the US. How can they make a transatlantic flight? They
could only send day walkers..."

Jeff felt Maldea stiffen in his arms.

"Unless," she stuttered, "Unless, they can day walk!"

"Christ! Surely not?" Fear echoed in Jeff's deep tones.

Jeff retrieved the remote, and switched on the TV - he fumbled
through the unfamiliar pages of text.

"Let me," Maldea laughed, "You never have got the hang of
tele-text"

The news page appeared seconds later, and together they scanned
the headlines. There it was, item 5 page 307: 'All female rock
band announce UK dates.’ Maldea's fingers flew over the keypad
and the page popped up.

'US rock phenomenon Les Bitches are to visit Europe for the
first time in their 15 year history. The UK tour starts next
month, venues include...’

Maldea switched off the TV; tears welled up in her eyes.

"They can day walk, Jeff, they are coming for us!"

Jeff tightened his hold on his quaking wife.

"They will never find us here, come on - in a month it'll all
be over!"

Maldea sobbed long and low, shuddering against Jeff's solid chest.
Jeff just held her, waiting for her fear to subside. His face was
blanched, and his eyes held a haunted expression.

'Had Maldea been right? All those years ago - should they have
gone back, finished it? She had seemed so certain, so brave.
Running had been his idea...' doubts poured through Jeff's
troubled mind.

               -----------------------------

As she mounted the steps onto the bus Lalo marvelled at how fast
her weekend had skipped by. After a shaky start it hadn't 
turned out so badly, she had enjoyed the long days on the
beach - slowly browning in the late August sunshine. She walked
swiftly down the cramped aisle, and went to sit down beside
Darren.

"Not today, Lalo, the seat's reserved... Sorry." Darren grinned
up at her impishly.

The bus shuddered and lurched forward sending Lalo sprawling
onto the empty rear seat. She wriggled, making herself
comfortable - without drawing any more unwanted glances than
she already had.

A few hundred yards later the brakes screeched, and the bus
opened its doors to the flood of children from Tintagel. As
usual her friend Cath was there, as was that bitch Rachael.
Cath plonked herself down beside Lalo with her customary
greeting.

"Hiya mate!"

Lalo was too sullen to reply, her eyes were fixed on Rachael.
Her rival, her nemesis - had sat down, beside Darren! Lalo felt
her face flush hot with unrestrained hurt. She stared at the
girl’s blonde curls with contempt, then watched in anguish as
Rachael took Darren's right hand and shifted it to her lap. Lalo
felt the colour drain back out of her, as she followed the
ripple of Rachael's crouched shoulders.

'They can't be, not on the bus!' Lalo's thoughts crowded around
her.

Suddenly Rachael stiffened in her seat. Immediately Darren
pulled up his hand and stuffed it triumphantly under the nose
of Dave Turner, sat just one seat in front of him.

"Told you, told you I could, and before we are half way to
Camelford!" Darren giggled.

"Big deal, she'd come for anyone..." Dave grunted.

"Oh, jealous are we, Dave - never mind..." Darren dissolved into
laughter, which was abruptly stopped by a sharp dig in the
ribs from Rachael's left elbow.

"Boys, only one thing they care about... Morons," whispered
Cath to Lalo.

Lalo turned away hiding her tears, and stared into the passing
greenery all the way to the outskirts of the town. Silently
Lalo watched the others rush to get off at the gates of Sir
James's. To her horror she witnessed Rachael pull her sticky
gusset away from her crotch, as she waddled up the bus. Lalo's
heart sank.

"I hate boys,” she breathed to no one in particular.

Cath snuck her hand briefly into Lalo's.

"Me too, me too," she mouthed.

The morning and lunch passed in a mire of boredom, until they
spilt out onto the playground. For the girls there was only
one topic of conversation.

"So are you really going, Suze?" asked a breathy Caroline.

"Yep! My mum said I could, dad's getting the tickets today - on the
internet..." Suze replied, smiling.

"Wicked!" replied an impressed Caroline.

"Don't know why you want to go, they're a bunch of has beens -
so 1990's" sneered Rachael.

"Leave her be, you always have to know best don't you?" Lalo
warned a shocked Rachael.

"Oh, got a tongue have we, well why don't you go use it on your
little lezzy friend. She needs it much more than me!" Rachael
spat.

The group dissolved into howls of laughter, leaving Lalo red faced
for the second time that day.

Lalo seethed inside.

'You will regret that, Rachael, you will regret that - today!'

               -------------------------------

The afternoon session began with English, Lalo's favourite, not
due to any particular love of language; her crush on Dick
Dreyfuss, the English teacher, had more to do with it.

"OK class, Shakespeare guides out Macbeth four, you all know your
parts," Dick's clear authoritative voice rang out.

Lalo winced, Shakespeare - not her favourite, and she had no part;
just an understudy. She sulked a little, and as the lesson progressed
her mind wandered to...

Revenge, if she concentrated - perhaps she could still do it. Her
'party trick', she bowed head slightly and narrowed her eyes.
Her mind focussed on Rachael, if she could just bring those
feelings back.

Rachael concentrated upon the play unfolding around her, her part
was coming soon. She shifted her weight on the plastic chair and
felt her body squelch against its hardiness. She thrust her hand
down to the front of her panties in panic.

'I can't have come on, I'm not due for a week' she wondered
desperately.

The fingers that returned were wet, but not with the expected
redness. Just clear juice, Rachael smiled slyly, and furtively
licked a delicious finger, then she slid her hand back under her desk.
Furiously Rachael pretended to make notes in her textbook with her
right hand, while her left busied itself in the soft folds of her 
wrinkled, damp labia.

Images flooded into her young mind, not of the normal boy bands,
but hot inviting flashes of a writhing female rock band. Her mind’s
eye feasted on the leather, the expanses of soft cleavage, and the
darkly inviting valleys between their gyrating thighs. Her thumb
located her slickly swollen bud, a few more strokes and...

"Miss Savage, Miss Savage, are you with us today?" Dick's voice
boomed through the classroom.

Rachael visibly jumped, scattering her books to the floor,
quickly she retrieved the guide, and scrambled through it for
her lines.

"Page 12 Macbeth VI, i, 44 'By the pricking of my thumbs'," Mr
Dreyfuss prompted.

Rachael scanned the page frantically, but it was no use. The words
just seemed to jumble themselves up, dancing around and teasing
her pleading eyes. Suddenly the words cleared, and in relief she
read parrot-like from the shaking page.

"Ahem, By the pricking of my thumbs, I want to lick Cath until
she comes!" Rachael's face fell as the final word left her lips.

For a second the room was hushed, then catcalls, laughter, and
whistles broke the silence. With a glance Dick quietened the
bedlam, and in two long steps he was by the mortified girls side.

"Straight to the head!" Dick paused, and picked up Rachael's
English book, "And take this obscenity with you!"

Mr Dreyfuss held the tattered book by its corner, just as if he
was handling high explosives. Through tearful eyes Rachael saw
the familiar blue cover, adorned as it now was by a rudimentary,
but accurate, drawing of a girl's sex. Rachael gurgled something
unintelligible before grabbing the book and scurrying from the
hostile classroom.

"Quieten down, the show's over!" Mr Dreyfuss barked, "Now who is 
the understudy?"

"Good, Lalo now read the text from Rachael's book, so we may all
hear the Bard’s intended version."

Lalo smiled broadly, stood and delivered the piece to the class,
perfectly.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes!"

                   --------------------------

Chapter two: Trouble

In the middle of the darkened room stood a red covered plinth, the centre of attention for a reverential, hushed audience. A dark skinned couple, naked, and writhing in the throes of their ecstasy, adorned the plinth. The only light shone down on them, highlighting every dimple and strained muscle in the back of the uppermost performer, as avid eyes drank in each rivulet of sweat. There was no hidden intimacy; all was on display as the wildly coupling duo climbed towards their next mutual peak. 

Warm receptive openings clung to the uniting shaft, and ragged breaths rent the still air. An eruption of cries rose from the throats of the lovers, who peaked, and then the sound stilled to gentle murmuring. Finally - one exhausted woman rolled off the other.

"Well?" 

A tall Germanic woman who had appeared beside the sweat soaked dais 
spoke the impatient word.
 
"Nothing..." Jolene panted, "Nothing at all,"

In a practiced motion, Jolene slid the flexible dildo from her body, and turned her gaze on her spent lover.

"Manda, are you OK? Manda!" Jolene's voice raised a pitch.

Jolene shook Manda's lax shoulder, trying to rouse her.

"No! No, Jolene - she's entranced, leave her..." Margit boomed.

Despite her concern, Jolene reacted instinctively to the command, 
snapping her hand away from her sister's sweet skin.

"Manda, listen to me. What do you see? What do you feel?" Margit asked.

Manda only twitched, sighed and smiled. Then in a fluid motion, she curled herself into a foetal ball, her full lips peeled back, and emitted an eerie hum. The volume of the sound increased until it bit at the eardrums of the assembled. The sound peaked, and Manda broke into a singsong voice.

"Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble" Manda sang.

"Sheeit, what the hell's that?" Jolene asked, rhetorically.

"That, m'dear is Shakespeare," Alison proudly announced.

"I know that - fool. But why is she saying it?" Jolene growled.

Further conversation was cut short; all eyes were drawn back to Manda. Her body straightened itself violently, and flew into the throes of a full-blown seizure. Agonisingly she shuddered and contorted on the small platform. Margit moved quickly, threading her arms through Jolene's; she held the frightened black girl firmly, rooting her to the spot.

"She'll be fine; Manda will be back with us all very soon,"  whispered Margit.

Finally the wicked contractions of Manda's body stilled. Seconds later, she sat up smiling.

"The power has been used. A route to the orphan has been gifted to us!"

Lascivious laughter filled the darkened cellar.          

                 -----------------------------

Rachael sat alone in her bedroom, thumbing through the latest copy of 'Glamour', bored out of her senses. When she reached the fashion pages, her attention was caught by a stunning leather creation. It was sensuously draped across a smouldering model; immediate images danced in her mind. Unconsciously, her mind slipped the neckline a little lower revealing a crinkled nub, Rachael groaned and smacked the pages shut.

Tears misted her vision.

'What's wrong with me, why am I so...' 

She flopped onto her bed, burying her face deeply in the pillow. Long sobs wracked her young frame; as she fell into her private hell.

'I'm not gay! I know I'm not, Darren knows I'm not. It's just not true' Rachael’s despair thundered back into her mind.

"Rachael, Rachael, it’s time to go!" her mother shouted up the stairs.

"I'm not going!" Rachael yelled back.

"Yes, you are, my girl, this is important." 

Rachael stomped from her room and down the stairs. She avoided her mother's gaze, and stood with her head hung. Idly she kicked the wall with her heel, moody to the last.

"Come on Rach, car now! Let's just get this over." her mother said, frowning at her youngest daughter.

The car journey proceeded in stony silence, eventually Susan tried once more.

"Look Rach, if this man gives you the all clear, you can go back to school tomorrow."

"Great, back to all the teasing, give up mum - you don't understand!" Rachael murmured.

"Darren will be there..." said mum.

Yeah, if he will still speak to me. He might not want to talk to a..." Rachael's voice tailed off.

Susan shifted down a gear, and pulled up on the hard-standing outside the surgery. She got out, stared for a moment at her seated daughter, and then walked to the passenger door. Susan swung the door wide open.

"Out, come on, just a chat with a doctor - that's all it is." 

Unwillingly, Rachael left the security of the car, and slunk towards the door. Behind her, Susan locked the car, sighed and then followed Rachael into the surgery.

'I wonder which of us is the most nervous. Rachael's right, I don't understand, not at all,' Susan thought.

The doctor looked up briefly from his desk; he motioned Susan and Rachael to sit down. For what seemed like an age he flicked through the pages of a closely typed report. Eventually he removed his half-moon glasses, used them to quickly scratch his nose, and spoke.

"So Rachael, how are we?" he asked.

"Wonderful, what do you think!" Rachael snorted.

"Yes, I can imagine.”

“Mrs Savage, it may be easier for me to talk with Rachael alone. Just for a short while." The doctor raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Anything you want to ask Rach, you can ask in front of me. We have no secrets," replied Susan.

"Ah, but Rachael is a young woman. I would like to respect her privacy." The doctor smiled.

"No way, I stay!" Susan glared.

"As you wish, of course. Rachael, I'm Dr Fazakerly, Justin, if you prefer. I specialise in counselling teenagers, helping them. I'd like to help you Rachael, or is it Rach?" Fazakerly beamed.

"Rachael to you, Justin," smirked Rachael.

"Good Rachael, so how long have you been sexually active?" Fazakerly asked.

"Sexually..." Susan choked on the word.

Fazakerly said nothing; he just calmly raised his forefinger to his lips. Rachael blushed deeply.

"Well I have snogged - once or twice. Is that what you mean?" Rachael replied.

"Not entirely, your file would suggest a little more than snogging," Fazakerly commented.

"I may have fooled around a bit, who’s been grassing?" Rachael asked.

"In this 'fooling around' have you had full intercourse?" Fazakerly queried.

"No! I haven't. Mum I haven't, honest" Rachael paled.

"It's all right, Rachael I believe you. Tell me though, when did you start 'fooling around'?" Fazakerly smiled. 

"'bout three years ago, I s'pose," replied Rachael.

"So 11 then," Fazakerly noted her response.

"11!" Susan gasped.

"Not uncommon, Mrs Savage, not uncommon at all. Tell me, in your own words Rachael, what happened the other day?" 

"Well I was waiting to read, and I got turned on - real hot. So I..."
Rachael's words faltered, she glanced at her mother, "I felt myself up, then when I had to speak, the words changed. They changed, I just read what they said - and then all hell happened… I left."

"These feelings, the 'hot turn on' was it from you?" The doctor queried, sitting forward slightly.

"No, they came from somewhere else, like the words, Justin. How did you know?" Rachael asked, frowning.

"Just a guess, Rachael, nothing more. Look, I don't think there is anything to worry about. Just pop outside and take a seat, I need a quick chat with your mum." 

Justin waited for the door to close, but before he could say a word Susan interjected.

"What's wrong with her, Doctor is it serious?" She asked.

"It could be nothing, but I am a little concerned, I think I should refer Rachael to our Psychosexual Counsellor," Fazakerly replied.

"So it's not schizophrenia?" Susan relaxed.

"Schizophrenia, why would you ask that?" the doctor quizzed.

"My Aunt had it, she died in a sanatorium," Susan answered.

"Did she?" Fazakerly scribbled some hurried notes, "Possible, but very unlikely, I think it's just an overactive sex drive, same sex attraction and crushes are common in all adolescents."

"So she can go back to school?"

"Once the counsellor has had a chat, I can't see why not. I really can't," Fazakerly replied.

                   -------------------------

Eloise wandered down the stairs to join the others. 

"Are you sure about this, Margit? I mean, I'm always ready for a group session, but are you sure this will work?"

"Yes I am sure, you heard what Manda told us. This wounded girl is our route to the orphan," Margit replied, pointedly.

"There's no need to snap, Margit! I am a scientist; I don't quite share your enthusiasm for the psychic world," Eloise said.

"Oh, science I see. So in what scientific category do you place vampires?" Margit asked sweetly.

"Point taken," Eloise blushed.

"Manda, tell me, which of us does the girl fantasise about the most?"

"Anna, it’s Anna that turns her on" Manda replied, "it's those nipples, they are still so damn sexy."

"Ahzo, Anna was your first as well, yes Manda," Margit grinned.

"She was," Manda replied, dreamily.

"Anna, come to our centre - we will commune through you."

Anna lay down on the dais, proudly pushing up her upturned breasts out as far as they would go. Her nipple tips hardened, and jutted wickedly from the puffy tissue under them. As she waited, the others clustered around her expectant, aching body. Sylvie crouched and tenderly encased Anna's left nipple with her own hungry mouth. An enthusiastic Pamela similarly nuzzled Anna’s right breast.

Margit fell to her knees between the wide stretched thighs and extended her tongue to lap the petals of Anna's sex. Above the fuzz of blonde curls, Margit watched as Macy lowered her dripping snatch onto Anna's pursed lips.

Anna sank her fingers into the sopping slits. By touch alone, she knew which belonged to Alison and which to Eloise. Her toes were unable to repeat that feat; nonetheless they luxuriated in the fluid channels of the servant sisters. Anna was enclosed in femininity, bathed in sexual delirium. Her senses flooded; she slid into a delicious trance, oblivious to the gasps and soft fondling surrounding her.

The transmission began.

Rachael sat wallowing in her own private misery, bored mindless; she looked around the sparse reception. Inwardly she sneered at the magazines sprawled on the coffee table top, and looked past the spray of plastic flowers. Her eyes came to rest on the reception desk, and then on the receptionist.

The girl was quite attractive, even if her clothes were a travesty of taste. That cardigan should go; it hid her figure, her hair – well, if she let down that formal bun, and conditioned it a bit more, would be passable.

Idly, her eyes wandered down the visible part of the girl's body.

'I wonder what her tits are like,' thought Rachael.

Instantly an image formed in her mind. Small, sculpted mounds tipped with puffy teats danced before her. Rachael swallowed hard, trying to push the knot of excitement away.

'Not now, oh god! Not now.' Rachael's mind raced.

She fought the desire to reach down and scratch the insistent itch. She shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. The desire grew, her distracted mind searched for some way to relieve the lust discreetly. She was in full view of the receptionist, and anyone walking in unexpectedly, it was hopeless. 

Moaning softly, Rachael crossed her legs; a jet of desire hit her as the seam of her jeans slid over her mound. Experimentally, she swung her upper leg; another frisson of excitement hit her. Relaxing, she let her muscles stimulate herself, and slowly her eyes narrowed. The dingy room disappeared, to be replaced totally by the gorgeous breasts; soft lips teased the stiff nipples, straining their plump succulence. Rachael's pulse thumped in her ears, drumming at an ever-increasing tempo. She felt her clitoris expand to nudge against the resistant seam.

"Miss Savage, Miss Savage! The doctor is ready for you now," the receptionist called her.

Her face was close enough for Rachael to kiss. It took a supreme effort not to reach out with her lips. The orgasm danced between her thighs waiting for one more deliberate swing of her leg. Rachael swung her leg, and breathed a lusty lungful of air directly into the receptionists surprised face. Embarrassed, she vaulted from the reception area; back to the relative safety of the doctor’s office.

Ensconced in Justin’s room, Rachael only half listened to his drawn-out explanation. She said little, and added even less. Her only reaction was to baulk at the idea of having to see another counsellor. When she realised there was no other option, her hand sought the comfort of her mother’s. The slight squeeze reassured Rachael, and she relaxed visibly and crossed her legs.

Dr Fazakerly fumbled through the contents of a half opened drawer. Carefully he selected a range of brochures, some for Rachael, and a few for Susan. Justin swivelled his chair back to look at his patients; Susan smiled back brightly. In contrast, Rachael looked positively doped - her eyes were half closed. She sat motionless, apart from her pendulum-like right foot. Justin cleared his throat noisily.

"Ahem, Rachael, I need you to read through these before your visit to Dr Kemp. Fill in the questionnaires, as honestly as you can, do you understand?

"Mmmmm, Un-huh." Rachael grunted.

"Good! Susan, these are for you. In addition, I'd like you to keep the diary notes we discussed." Justin smiled.

He reached forward to pass the handful of leaflets to Susan. They were sent spinning from his hand to litter the office floor. Rachael had pulled her fingers free of her mother's hand, and thrust them up her mother's skirt. Susan jumped at the sudden rude contact, and simultaneously, Rachael stiffened. The teenager screamed, her pleasure was transparent to them all. Rachael buckled over, twitching as wave after wave of impure passion burst through her.

Thousands of miles away, Anna ran her flexing tongue around her encrusted lips. She could taste it, even more than the pungent flavour of Macy's cunt. She could taste, no, savour her slave’s multiple climax. The link was complete.

                 ------------------------------

Chapter three: What's Done

Cath stamped her feet, it may have still been summer, but the morning was a chilly one. She stood silently amongst the din of the other children; her ears straining to pick up one thread of conversation. Although it was whispered, Cath could just make it out.

"I tell you she's weird, did you see the way she eyed up Rach that day?" asked Caroline.

"What are you saying? That Lalo did something to her? How? I mean just how?" said Suze.

"I don't know, but she's odd - you know spooky," Caroline replied.

"So should we sort her? I mean, after what's happened to Rach now? The bitch deserves it!" Suze snapped.

“I have a plan, but I need to talk to someone first. She will pay..." Caroline muttered.

The screech of the bus braking drowned out all the chatter. Cath rushed onto the bus. She gazed along the aisle, Lalo was sitting beside Darren. Without hesitation, Cath walked up and interrupted their conversation.

"I need your advice Lalo, can you spare me a bit of time?" Cath asked, motioning to the empty back seats with a twitch of her head.

“‘scuse me Darren," Lalo said, before following her friend to the rear of the stationary bus.

Cath snuggled up to Lalo, and waited to speak, until the roar of the bus starting almost covered her hushed words.

"Watch out for Caroline, she and Suze are planning something. They're crazy, do you know they are blaming you for what happened to that weirdo, Rachael."

"Maybe they are right!" Lalo whispered.

Cath turned to look at her friend, Lalo quickly moved her head, but Cath saw the glistening tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Lalo stiffened against Cath's supportive arm.

"You can't believe that, it's crazy!" Cath gasped, "Lalo, she did what she did alone, and none of it was your fault."

Lalo turned her head back, and stifled a sniffle - her red eyes looked directly into Cath's.

"You don't know what I'm capable of - I'm not, not – normal." Lalo sighed.

"You are more normal than me, mate, come on, cheer up. I'm here for you," Cath smiled.

"Thanks," murmured Lalo.

Cath sat comforting Lalo all the way to school. Their bond of friendship grew stronger in the shared silence. The two outcasts were set against the world.

                  --------------------------------

The day dragged along slowly and try as she might, Cath couldn't get Lalo and her plight out of her mind. She felt a special closeness to Lalo, and it was growing, changing into something else. Was this love, or just another crush? It felt real, but could she really have these deep feelings for another girl? The others had always teased her, but until now she had laughed it off. She wasn't laughing now; she was scared of her feelings -and what they could mean.

Cath felt another more familiar desire building up; she knew she would have to deal with it soon. This time she would need to find somewhere more secure than the loos. She had almost been caught in the middle of it last time.

'God, I shouldn't do it again. I know it's wrong, mum would be furious if she knew.'

The feeling grew, its strength increasing in line with her panic. Cath's hands started to tremble, she knew all was lost. The bell interrupted her deep self-pity. She stood, and made her way to the classroom door, immediately Lalo stopped her.

"How do you fancy sharing lunch? We can chat, and..." Lalo was cut short.

"I can't, I'm... I just can't! Sorry," Cath blurted out the words.

Ignoring the confused look on Lalo's face, Cath dashed to the door. She had needs of her own that she had to control. Soon she was outside the school; her pace quickening, carrying her away from the busy playground.

She slipped into the shadows, and found her way to the back of the school kitchens. Once hidden, in a dark doorway, Cath began her sordid ritual; her frustrated hands tore at her clothes. Soon bare unprotected flesh was exposed, and she slid her hand into the breast pocket of her school uniform.

Her nimble fingers grasped the object of her desire firmly. She calmly toyed with it. In a flash it was done, her face screwed up in a mixture of relief and pain. Her left hand hung by her side, dark droplets of blood dripping from her fingers. A fresh cut graced her scarred arm, ripe and red it gaped, smiling at the bottom of a ladder of previous scars.

The teenager sobbed, howling her disgust of herself to the universe. The wet razor blade was still tightly clenched between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.

She was wounded in her heart and soul, but relief soon followed as she bled away her sins. Cath pulled herself together, and flicked the blade back into her pocket. She applied her clean hanky over the seeping wound and tied it off with her teeth. Carefully she rolled her blouse sleeve back down, buttoned the cuff, and smiled.

Once again her shame was hidden, and her sins atoned for. She walked confidently away from the kitchen, and skirted the fence by Dark Lane. She made her way to the toilets; soon there would be no evidence. As she turned the corner, the cheerful hum died on her lips. Cath froze not believing, and not wanting to believe, her eyes.

Lalo was standing with her back against the pebble-dash wall. Darren was in front of her, his right hand buried deep inside Lalo's school blouse. Darren sneered, and thrust his other hand roughly under the hem of Lalo's skirt. Lalo writhed against Darren's double assault. Cath moved - she was just about to leave when she heard the panic in Lalo's voice.

"Darren, please, please stop! Don't, even I don't touch myself there. Darren - let go! It's not safe," Lalo pleaded.

"I want you to prove you're not what they say you are! Show me you want it," ordered Darren.

Darren's hands moved even more frantically over Lalo's unwilling body. Cath could see a dark nipple, standing proud as he groped Lalo's small breast. Her eyes drank in the voyeuristic glimpse, Cath's pulse raced. She was torn, her mind told her to rescue her friend; but the dark desire held her entranced, it was so good to watch.

Lalo's head swung back; Darren's fingers had found their mark. She recoiled from his heavy touch. Her hands reached up to push him back, but Darren shifted his position. His hands flew up to Lalo's shoulders, and mercilessly he forced her down. Soon Lalo was on her knees, trembling with fear. Darren lunged forwards, driving the tented front of his trousers into Lalo's face. Cath watched in horror as he started to unzip his fly.

Before Cath's startled eyes, Darren was suddenly launched off his feet. The surprised boy dangled in mid air, and then crashed to the ground, falling in a crumpled heap. In seconds, he sprang to his feet and ran towards Lalo. When he was no more than an arm’s length away from her, he once again shot upwards, flipped in mid air, and landed flat on his back. Cath heard the air rush from his lungs, he gurgled. She watched as he scrambled back up onto his feet. Darren cast a terrified look back at Lalo, and fled.

Cath ran up to her friend, who was busily covering up her exposed body.

"Lalo, are you OK?" Cath puffed.

"Fine, thanks - just fine." Lalo replied.

"What happened? Did you?" Cath asked.

"Yes, that was me. I'm a monster!" Lalo sobbed, through sheets of tears.

"No you're not, you were just protecting yourself,"

"Then yes, but I attacked Rachael; this is entirely my fault!" Lalo wailed.

"Come on, it’s OK. I’ll look after you."

Cath sighed, as Lalo fell forward into her welcoming arms.

               ---------------------------------

Maldea dried the last of the plates, and stacked it carefully in the cupboard. She heard the front door slam shut; despite her annoyance she checked her anger. Lalo hadn't been herself for days; it wasn't the time for shouting.

"Lalo, hi, dad rang, he's going to be caught up in Newcastle for a few days. So it's just us!" Maldea called.

"Not quite mum, come in here. I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Maldea dried her hands, and threw the tea towel onto the work surface. She walked into the living room. Lalo stood there, hand-in-hand with a nervous looking girl. She was a good six inches taller than Lalo, with shoulder length auburn hair. She was pale, with a chiselled Gaelic bone structure; willowy but striking.

"Mum this is Cath, my best friend."

"Hi Cath, and welcome. I'm Maldea, are you thirsty or hungry?"

"No, I'm fine Mrs Contadino, thank you." Cath answered, shyly.

"Maldea, please. But you will stay for some tea?"

"Go on Cath, it'll be good - mum's a great cook." Lalo grinned.

"If you don't mind, thanks, I will." Cath smiled.

"Of course not, you two girls go and chat, tea will be about an hour," Maldea beamed.

Lalo led Cath to the stairs.

"I've got some great CD's, come on!" said Lalo.

Maldea watched the pair shoot up the stairs, smiling at their enthusiasm. Soon Maldea was immersed in her cooking, so happy that Lalo had found someone she could relate to. Maldea pressed down on the blender and watched as the vegetables disintegrated to form the fresh pesto. Tomato and Basil was Lalo's favourite, and tonight the meal would be special, in honour of her friend Cath.

The name dredged up a memory, what was it Lalo had said about her? It was before that stupid argument. Why was this troubling her? Maldea went cold.

'You know, lesbianism - they talk about it in PSE at school, I think Cath Hebbert may be one...'

Was this the girl that had talked Lalo into wanting to see ‘Les Bitches’? Maldea walked quietly into the living room. The sound of music drifted down the stairs.

'Wanna fly to a place where it's just you and me
Nobody else so we can be free

All the things she said
All the things she said
Running through my head
Running through my head
Running through my head'

Maldea sighed with relief, it wasn't a Bitches number. All that panic for nothing. Anyway lots of teenage girls thought they were gay, she remembered her innocent crush on Sister Grace at the convent school. Yes, she must try to relax, not over-react. Jeff had been right about that as well.

She returned to the kitchen, and continued cooking. For some insane reason the catchy lyrics ran through her head, over and over again. That verse, damn, it seemed almost addictive.

'All the things she said
All the things she said
Running through my head
Running through my head
Running through my head'

She giggled at her own thoughts, man, she was getting weirder by the day! Busy minutes passed, and finally Maldea dished up the steaming pasta.

"Lalo, Cath, it's ready," she called.

No response.

"Lalo! Tea!" Maldea shouted.

No response.

"Come on Lalo, It'll get cold!" She bawled.

No response.

'No one gets cold pasta in my house' Maldea thought.

Dutifully she plodded upstairs with the two steaming plates. Maldea pushed down the door handle with her elbow, and leant against the door with her bottom. Silently the door swung open, and Maldea turned into Lalo's bedroom. She stopped dead, mouth agape - Maldea stood rigidly still, almost a waxworks copy of a shocked waitress.

A small naked figure lay stretched out on the duvet. Eyes closed, moving her body rhythmically, undulating with pleasure. Lalo's nipples jutted proudly from the soft swell of her flattened breasts, tweaked to erection by her attentive fingers. Her smooth abdomen contracting with pleasure, slowly grinding her glistening slit against Cath's active tongue. Maldea saw the dark hairs surrounding her daughter’s sex stir, as the rotating tongue circled in broad sweeps. The ancient passion, so long forgotten, flooded Maldea's senses. Silently, almost dream-like, she turned and bent down, placing the plates outside the bedroom door; they were unimportant now.

Maldea straightened herself, and turned back to observe the unfolding passionate drama played out before her. Cath's mop of auburn hair swishing over Lalo's dark, twitching thighs. Cath’s pale hands rummaged under her open school blouse, and freed a pink tipped breast. Maldea marvelled at the contrast between the savagely erect pink bud, and the creamy perfection of the exposed breast. Fascinated, she watched as Cath's right hand slid down her body and under the waistband of the pleated school skirt.

Hypnotically, and unconsciously, Maldea's own hands traced the same route down her tee-shirt. Her fingers unbuckled the restrictive belt, and then burrowed under the front of her jeans. The stud on her jeans popped, and the zip slid down, giving her access to the treasure she unknowingly sought. Maldea's eyes narrowed, squinting intensely at the passionate scene before her. She bucked against her fingers, writhing with the familiar pleasure; it was the only thing kept her sane when Jeff was away. With practiced ease, her left hand flattened and pulled up her hairless mound, her fluid fingers dancing over the fat bud they sought.

Her eyes filled with tears of frustration, it had been so long, too long. Maldea quivered on the edge of release, her mind plundered the memories of her sisters' bodies and flavours. She watched as Cath's hand blurred, the girl was reaching her crescendo. Her ears drank in the crashing cries of both Lalo and Cath. It was enough, Maldea grunted quietly, holding back her own intense climax.

Slowly Maldea's eyes refocused and she watched Cath crawl up her daughter's body. Lalo blinked, and then extended her long tongue; soon her ecstatic face was hidden. The grey folds of Cath's skirt obscured the upper part of Lalo's flexing torso. She watched as her daughter reached down with both hands to caress her flowing vulva. One hand held her mound flat, and allowed Lalo's slim fingers to polish the stiff organ that projected through the open wrinkled lips. Maldea sighed, and watching a carbon copy of her own technique, she started to masturbate once more.

So lost in her solitary pleasure was she, that Maldea didn't even notice the red tinge permeating the orgiastic room. Maldea first became aware of a pressure deep inside her head. Then a voice, a parody of Lalo's innocent tones rang out in her ears.

'Slake your desire sister, come join us'

Maldea paused, temporarily lost in confusion.

'Come join us sister,' the seductive voice crooned.

Maldea walked slowly forward, gently letting her clothing fall away. She stopped at the side of the bed; idly she watched Cath's hands as they ran over her smooth creamy breasts. Maldea sank down, her body obediently joining her daughter’s on the rumpled duvet. Pleasure rained down upon her.

One phrase echoed through Maldea's excited brain.

'What's done cannot be undone.'

                  --------------------------

Chapter four: Or in Rain.

Rachael woke slowly, her body finally surfacing from its drug-induced slumber. Parts of the room swam around her, gradually going in and out of focus; her mind stirred in its chemical cage.

'Where am I? What happened?" her drowsy mind asked.

She fumbled through her memories, and slowly Rachael assembled her recent history, fragment by fragment.

'Going to the doctors,'

'Coming hard, and shocking the prudish receptionist,'

'Being pulled off her mum,'

The memory jarred a nerve, and Rachael's rolling eyes grew misty.

'The jab in her arm, and floating to the waiting ambulance,'

'Watching the countryside and mines drift by as she travelled far away from her home,'

'A serious looking woman in a blue uniform, and the smiling woman doctor, then darkness...'

Rachael sniffed back her tears, and moved. Her hand failed to reach her wet eyes. It was held firmly by a leather strap that stretched towards the headboard of the bed.

'Shit, I'm trapped!' the panicked girl thought.

Rachael noticed the red button close to her hand; her finger jabbed at it furiously. Almost at once the glossy green door swung open, and in walked a familiar figure.

"Awake are we? Good. So are we more sociable today?" asked a matronly voice.

"Sod off!" Rachael snarled.

"Before or after I release you?" the nurse asked.

"Release me, you mean you will take these shackles off?" Rachael smiled weakly.

"Yes, you know they are only on to stop you wandering around when you are too drowsy. We don't want any accidents, these neuroleptics are pretty powerful," the nurse paused, "but you seem awake enough to me."

"What are neuroleptics?"

"The class of drugs you are on, Rachael, they help control your symptoms -the voices?"

"Voices, no - there is just one voice, that bitch Lalo. She controls me!"

"Rachael, you are ill, the doctors and I will help you."

"By drugging me and tying me down?" Rachael spat out.

"You keep up that spirit, girl; it will help you get better,"

"I'm not ill..." Rachael's voice trailed off.

The nurse walked forward and unbuckled the straps securing Rachael to the hospital bed. Rachael read the label on the nurse’s lapel: 'Cora Vickery. Matron Unit 5.'

"Cora, what sort of name is that?" Rachael asked.

"A Scottish sort, Rachael, is that OK with you?"

"You don't sound Scottish."

"I've been here so long, the accent - it fades, I expect. Anyway, Dr Kemp will want to see you shortly, now you are back with us."

"Well fuck her, I'm staying here." growled Rachael.

"We'll see, Rachael, we will see." The matron winked, and swept out of the room.

                   -------------------------

Rachael sat in the doctor’s office, glaring at the pasty-faced girl opposite her; she was the epitome of everyone's image of the institutionalised. Her sallow cheeks were bony ridges above a deeply hollowed mouth, at which skinny fingers plucked for no obvious reason. Her dirty blonde hair hung lankly across her forehead, mostly obscuring the pale blue darting eyes. The girl, for she was no more than that, looked like a startled deer, caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry.

For an instant, Rachael felt sorry for her waif-like companion, and was just about to speak, when the door opened. In breezed a woman in a business suit, who sat behind the room’s solitary desk. Quietly she thumbed through a few sheets of paper, and then spoke.

"Welcome, Rachael, I am Dr Kemp and this is Pearl. Please try to relax; we are just here to make our introductions. Pearl will be your mentor and room mate, she knows all about the hospital - and will help you to feel at home here."

"I'm not sharing a room with that junkie! She looks a right smack-head, how the hell can she help me?" Rachael gave a derisory laugh.

"Pearl has never abused drugs, Rachael; she suffers from agoraphobia and an eating disorder. She is however, bright and capable. Now introduce yourself to Pearl, I'm sure she will accept your apology." Dr Kemp frowned.

"Yeah, sure, bog off!" said Rachael.

"OK then Rachael, have it your way. I still want you to introduce yourself, and explain why you are here."

Rachael's face fell, her confident, cheeky air evaporated. She couldn't discuss this - not now; stuck in a room with a Welsh clone of Shirley Conran, and a zombie. Rachael shifted uncomfortably, and stared at her tightly clasped hands. Her panic was blind; there was nowhere left to turn. Rachael’s moods swung wildly. Was she losing her mind?

"If it's easier Rachael, Pearl and I will start first?"

Rachael nodded sullenly.

"I'm Dr Virginia Kemp, Child Psychologist and Psychosexual counsellor. I'm from Cardiff originally, and my friends call me Ginny."

Pearl glanced up, the hair fell away from her eyes; the pale orbs scanned Rachael intensely.

"Me, I'm Pearl, Pearl White. I like it here, it’s safe, Rachael; you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to. I hate going outside, so they keep me here, safe and sound," Pearl stated in a clear low voice.

"My name is Rachael Savage; I'm here because I hear a voice."

"Yes and the voice tells you to do unpleasant things. Why do you listen, why do you do as the voice says?" Dr Kemp asked.

"It's not my fault! When Lalo talks to me I lose control, I have to do what she wants," Rachael stated.

"So this Lalo, is she a real person?"

"Yes, she's the lezzy bitch that set me up, she made me grope my mum - I didn't want to do it!" Rachael spoke through her tears.

"You groped your mum? Gross..." Pearl eyed Rachael with suspicion, "I'm not going to share a room with her!"

"Pearl, Rachael is on a high dose of colozapine, she won't hear the voices now. You are quite safe, Pearl, and Rachael will help you get over some of your fears," Virginia said.

"I don't like her! She's weird; let me share with someone else - anyone else," Pearl pleaded.

"Now, Pearl..." Dr Kemp was interrupted by Rachael.

"Please Pearl, I'm sorry, I need a friend..." tears streamed down Rachel's face "I'm lost, I don't understand what's happening to me."

Pearl's expression changed as the last sentence left Rachael's lips. She sat forward, and rested her thin hand on Rachael's.

"It's OK, I know. We'll help each other, I'll be your big sister, Rachael"

"Big sister? How old are you, Pearl?" Rachael sniffed.

"I'm seventeen, Rachael, and you?"

"Seventeen, but you look like a kid. I'm fourteen, but I look older than you."

"Pearl's illness has stopped her developing sexually, Rachael, that's why she looks as she does." Dr Kemp added.

"I still don't have periods, and I never want to!" Pearl's voice quaked.

"You want to be a little girl forever?" Rachael asked, incredulously.

"I never want to be a woman, to have to..." Pearl's voice trailed off.

Pearl coughed and dry retched.

"OK, Pearl, we aren't going to talk about that any more. Calm down, calm now."

"I'm all right, sorry," whimpered Pearl.

"Let's wind this up, you two girls go and get to know each other. We'll talk more tomorrow"

Virginia smiled as the girls wandered away from her office. She had high hopes for them both, and as experimental as this approach was - it did show promise.

                  ------------------------------

Jeff panted, and drove his buttocks down once more. He relished the feel of her soft suction, pulling him into her very core. He closed his eyes and blindly stroked her rib cage. He swept his fingers over her smooth breasts and located her needy nipples. She tightened against him, her breath coming in short gasps. Jeff felt her legs cross behind his flexing back; lovingly she drew him to her. He felt the beginning, his slack pouch contracted--squeezing and propelling his seed on its furious journey. Lustily, headily, he came, filling her and calling the name of his love into the still night.

"Maldea!"

He opened his eyes, and stared down into the deep blue ones returning his gaze.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Jeff puffed.

"Don't worry, Jeff, it's not the first time," she said.

"I know, but that's hardly an excuse!"

"Look, I know I'm just the substitute here. I know how much you love her."

"You are no substitute, Janet; you are far more than that - without you I'd have gone mad years ago," Jeff protested.

"I know, but I will never understand it, you are crazy about her - are you sure it can't work?"

"We can never just make love, she always holds something back," Jeff paused, "it's as if she's afraid it will all start again."

"What will all start again, Jeff? In all these years - you never have told me," Janet asked.

"And I never will!" Jeff shouted.

Jeff grabbed his trousers, and started to pull them up his legs. His hands trembled with rage.

"You're not going now, Jeff, you can't just storm out on me, again!"

Janet curled her arm around Jeff's waist; her fingers fondled his wet shaft, and then sank down to weigh his ample balls. She felt him swelling against her wrist; he was weakening.

"Leave it, Janet, I have told you before there are things I can't tell you -I'm going home."

Janet wriggled around Jeff, and took his bobbing cock-head into her mouth. Her tongue explored the stretched organ, and slid to the weeping opening.

Jeff sighed.

"Well, maybe it can wait until tomorrow morning..." he laughed.

"Or Friday?" Janet mumbled, sending shocks through his stiff prick.

"Or Friday, you are so bad, girl..."

Jeff's penis flopped out of Janet's succulent mouth, she giggled.

"Besides which, you can't go all the way to Cornwall - commando!" she pointed to Jeff's crumpled boxer shorts on the floor.

Jeff grabbed Janet playfully, and moved her head back to his turgid erection. She engulfed him joyfully, giving him a cheeky nip with her sharp teeth.

"Ow, watch it! And less of the comedy lady..." Jeff chuckled.

In response Janet slid her mouth down to the base of his cock, her lips grazing his dark curls. She slowly dragged her lips up his shaft, nibbling the pulsing skin as she went. His length popped out of her mouth and bobbed furiously, as if seeking its warm sheath.

"A comedian I may be, but I'm no lady," Janet grinned.

As her head descended towards his dancing erection, Jeff nodded his head in dumb agreement.

                  ---------------------------

Pearl lay quietly in her new bed, too fearful to sleep. Her mind was full of today's confessions; Rachael's voice echoed in her thoughts. She found herself wondering what it must be like to experience such a loss of control. Pearl's mind recoiled, that was her worst fear - that one day it would happen.

The years rolled back in her head; she saw the squat, the needles, and her mother straddling yet another man. One of an endless procession of men that paid for the heroin Steph craved. She felt the determination well up inside her. She would never, never, be like her, Pearl would never be a woman; she would stay safe.

Finally, Pearl drifted off into an uneasy sleep; she squirmed as the dreams came - they always did. She was back at the hated squat, mum was seeing off her latest visitor. She heard the insincere banter.

"Glad you enjoyed it, lovely to see you again. You are my favourite you know - such a man."

Slowly the dishevelled creature lumbered back into what passed for a living room. She threw herself down onto a torn dirty armchair, her towelling robe hung open. Pearl caught sight of the ravaged pale body, inwardly she shivered.

"What's up with you Pearly, do you want a slice of mummy too. Yes you would like to be like Rachael, a real daughter, real c-l-o-s-e." Steph staggered to her feet and stumbled towards Pearl, her dangling breasts swinging with each unsteady step.

"My Pearly..." Steph cooed, in mock seduction.

Steph fell forwards and landed on Pearl with force, her slack mouth sought Pearl's. Pearl watched the haggard face descend towards her; Pearl smelt the stale cigarettes. Steph wheezed, uttered a single cough and lurched towards Pearl’s paralysed form. Cold passionless lips found Pearl’s; she shuddered at the taste of the man’s putrid semen on her mother’s tongue.

Pearl woke up with a start, covered in perspiration, with her heart thumping. Her wild eyes darted around the moonlit room, she was safe. This wasn't the squat. She made her way to the wash basin, and thirstily guzzled some water from the cold tap. Standing, Pearl caught sight not only of her distraught reflection, but of an image that burned itself into her retinas. Her room mate - was sprawled naked on top of her bedclothes.

Pearl turned, dreamlike, and gazed at Rachael's unconscious display. Her eyes followed the rounded contours; Rachael looked so different to her mother, so ripe. The moonlight cast a bluish, unreal tinge on Rachael's smooth skin; she glowed, looking more like a goddess than a girl.

Pearl swallowed hard, but her mouth was dry. Rachel stirred on the bed, moving her legs languidly. Pearl watched in fascination as Rachael's thighs slid open - she caught sight of a small tattooed butterfly. Then, gradually Rachael's sex appeared before her, yawning wildly. Pearl marvelled at the intricate beauty before her, the silken hairs and deep inviting chasm.

Pearl felt odd, something was happening to her. She gazed down at her cotton night shirt, and saw two raised peaks tipping the gentlest of swells. Her hands sought them out, initially to still the prickling sensation. They stayed to caress her virgin nipples, coaxing them to full prominence. Pearl's breathing shortened, as new sensations flooded her inexperienced body. The warmth and itching between her thighs grew, until she could stand it no longer. A tenuous hand slid down her taut stomach, pausing momentarily when it encountered the down above her labia, and then wormed its way lower.

The wetness surprised Pearl, and she withdrew her fingers bringing them under her twitching nose.

'It's not wee, I haven't wet myself,' she thought, sighing with relief.

Her slit cried out for the return of her nervous hand, without hesitation her fingers returned to her treasure. The probing fingertips opened her slick lips and delved inside, trembling as they explored the unaccustomed territory. With a minimum of pressure they slid down the pulsing cleft and entered a velvet pouch. Pearl stiffened against her own touch.

'Something's going to happen if I keep doing this. I can feel it building up!'

Despite her desperate thoughts, her fingers danced ever faster, coating her vulva with delicious secretions. But dance as they might, they could not take her to her unknown goal. The motion of her hand tensioned with real frustration; the harder she tried to complete her passion the further away it seemed.

Then something miraculous happened, new fingers touched her - fingers that knew what to do - where to press. Pearl's eyes flew open. Rachael was standing directly in front of her, the tip of Rachael’s nose almost nuzzling hers. Slowly but inevitably, the two pairs of lips closed the distance between them and smothered each other. Pearl stiffened, and then melted, dissolving into the delight of her first ever orgasm.

                  ---------------------------

Jeff reached the outskirts of Tintagel just as the sun dipped below the horizon. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash, 20:01 - autumn would be here all too soon. He pulled into the lay-by outside the 'Spar 8 'til late’ shop, and sprinted up to the door.

It was still open; he breezed into the cluttered store, and walked past the glaring headlines of the local Friday papers. He turned right, walked up the aisle, and retrieved a solitary box of 'Milk Tray' chocolates. He paid in cash, smiling at the young girl's groans. The filled plastic bags on the counter confirmed that she had already cashed up for the day.

"Please, I may be in need of the brownie points. I'm late again!" he practised his most disarming grin.

"Oh, OK just this once, but only because I know Maldea deserves them," she smiled wearily.

"Cheers! See you…" Jeff called, as he ran back towards the entrance.

"Mmmm, bye..."

Jeff hurtled into the darkness, and drove home in record time. The first inkling he had that life was other than normal came as he swept the car into the garage, beside the darkened house. Idly he wondered why the windows weren't blazing into the night. A chilly thought hit him; he hoped Maldea didn't have one of her migraines. Now that really could spoil his plans for this evening.

He was still ruminating on the course his weekend would take, when he flicked on the hall light.

"Hi Maldea, I'm home! Are you OK, love?"

No response.

"Lalo, are you home?"

No response.

"Hey, are you ill? H-e-l-l-o."

No response.

Concerned, Jeff rushed through the house, flicking on lights as he went. He vaulted up the stairs two at a time. Their bedroom was empty; Maldea was not reclining on her sick bed. Jeff frowned, and headed for Lalo's room. He stumbled over some plates, and swore under his breath at his daughter’s slovenly habits. What he saw next raised the hairs covering his tanned neck.

The room was in chaos with clothes strewn around the floor. He bent and examined the closest pile; on the very top was a pair of discarded panties. Jeff picked them up; he couldn't fail to notice how starched the gusset was, and he sniffed deeply. Jeff was greeted with the rich aroma of Maldea's sex. Two similar piles of clothes lay on the far side of the bed. Then he noticed what was on the bed. A rudimentary inverted crucifix had been fashioned from two broken pieces of wood. He froze, not wood, a broken pool cue - the pool cue, his pool cue from New York.

Seconds passed, and eventually Jeff moved, wiping the tears from his eyes. Through the blur he saw the crudely written message on the dresser mirror. He checked its substance with an extended finger, and realised, to his relief, it wasn't blood but lipstick. He squinted at the unfamiliar scrawl, slowly and with difficulty he read:

'When shall we three meet again,
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurly-burly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.'

Jeff read it, and wept.

			--------------------------

Chapter five: Wild in Their Attire.

'Virgin Atlantic is pleased to announce the arrival of flight VS...'
The rest of the announcement was unheard, as an almighty roar surged from the throats of the impatient fans. Terminal Four at Heathrow airport rocked, besieged by dark hordes of teenage 'Bitch' fans.
WPC Helen Grant turned and shouted to her colleague. Although she stood only four feet away from Helen, it was hard to make out all the words.

"I'm amazed they are so popular with this lot. I mean in my day, sure, they were well hot."

"So, who was your favourite then, Helen?" Audrey bawled back.

"Sorry, what?"

"Fave, which one was your Fave Bitch?" Audrey hollered.

"Oh, Ali - Alison Blackhead. Yours?" Helen replied.

"Ellie, I always had a thing, a crush on Ellie. Still have!"

The words sunk into Helen, she gave an involuntary shudder.’ Crush?' Helen thought, 'Audrey, the man killer had a thing for women too? 
Shit, how come I get none?' Further thoughts were suspended, as the sexy septuplet emerged through the arrival gate. It was all the police could do to hold the thin blue line - let alone think. Leather and flesh, cleavage and attitude; ‘Les Bitches’ walked steadily towards the sea of adoration. Helen overheard a comment she fully agreed with.

"They still look as hot as ever! How come they don't ever age?"

She felt her pants grow damp, partly from manhandling the writhing teenage girls who she held back from the stars. Mostly though, it was from the look she caught in Ali's eye, as she breezed past the struggling WPC. 

The line broke, and the masses poured forward. Panicked police voices rang out hopelessly through the chaos. Helen recognised the danger at once, the band were in danger of being crushed to death by their adoring followers. In the blink of an eye, the crowd had flowed within yards of the troupe of women. They had no protection and no obvious security; surely they were doomed.

In front of Helen's wide eyes, the most remarkable thing happened. The storm of thundering feet was stilled; the entire crowd stopped moving en masse. Helen's eyes moved from one confused face to another, the expressions changed from uncertainty to rapture.

Helen felt her own pleasure peak, as girl after girl climaxed before her eyes. Time slowed as Helen's heartbeat pulsed in her ears; each beat, a small orgasm on the way to something cataclysmic. The terminal faded away; Helen was alone, haunted by a mischievous Sapphic poltergeist. Only her pleasure existed, the world stopped and Helen stepped off it, into her keenest fantasy.

Helen stared up into Audrey's concerned face. She felt her lips moving, but no words came. Audrey bent lower, and spoke to her fallen comrade.

"It's OK, it will pass. Just keep calm," she smiled, her concern apparent.

"Les Bitches - Ali, did they get away?" Helen asked.

"They are fine, vanished; God knows what has happened here though," said Audrey.

Helen sat up and swung her head in a broad arc, people were sprawled 
everywhere. Women, men and children - some writhed in silent ecstasy, still others masturbated openly; their glazed eyes a testament to their vacant but lustful expressions. Others, like her, were recovering. Men in semen splattered trousers clung to any support they could find, women desperately tried to cover the evidence of wild desire. Most pitiful were the confused children, witness to passions they had only ever whispered about, and wracked by their own unwanted desires.

"Who did this?" Helen mumbled, as the tears welled in her eyes.

"Best guess is some sort of terrorist nerve gas attack, the bastards!" Audrey advised.

"So it wasn't the band?" Helen sobbed.

"No, how could it be? They are just seven normal women," Audrey paused, "aren't they?"

Helen nodded back at Audrey; the words just came to her - from the ether.

"Of course they are, I'm just confused. Forget I ever said it."
Helen smiled.

Ali was with her, she felt her mind caressed by the softest of vampyre thoughts. Helen grinned; she would never be alone again.

			---------------------------

Jolene hummed happily as she steered the black stretch limo serenely along the M4. She and Manda had easily slipped through the throngs at Heathrow unnoticed. Nobody wanted their autographs; just as well, Jolene would have been a little more brutal than the Bitches were.
She listened to the soft chorus of sighs that drifted forwards from the paneled-off rear of the car. Yeah, they could day walk now, but it took its toll - they had to rest. Just as well really, it meant that she and Manda were still indispensable. As much as she loved them, desired them, and was servile to them, she would never be dumb enough to trust them. No sirree, she had seen too much over the years for that.

"So where are we headed?" chirped Manda.

"To Cornwall, still a long way to go Mand," Jolene replied, without as much as a glance from the roadway.

"Is that in England, or Wales?" Manda asked.

"It's England, honey, as far south and west as you can get."

"So how far?"

"Hundreds of miles yet, so be patient."

"I can't wait that long," breathed Manda.

"You need to pee? We can stop. I saw a sign for the services - it's only about 2 more miles."

"No it's more important than that, the power they used back there. Man, that was a turn on, I'm just horny."

Jolene pulled the car across to the inside left lane, and slowed from 80 to 60 mph. Her left hand brushed against the automatic lever as it moved to Manda's lap.

"Now we can't have that, can we, sis?" Jolene laughed.

Manda opened her thighs as the insistent fingers wriggled between them. She leant over and skimmed her hand across the sensitive black skin at the top of Jolene's tight leg.

"Uh uh, not me, I need to concentrate. I have no interest in coming just as we slide under the back of one of these trucks. No touch, just lay back and enjoy. I'll think about what you can do for me in return at the hotel." Jolene winked at her errant sibling.

"Spoilsport!" Manda whispered, wistfully.

Then she sighed, leant back and let Jolene's practiced fingers take her.

"You know I might even enjoy this little holiday," Manda breathed, her gasps already shortening.

Alison listened to the cries of incestuous masturbation, drifting back from the cab. She smiled. Today had been a good day - and by the sound of it the night would be long and exciting. Her mind drifted back to their arrival. Now that had been so lucky, or maybe not - perhaps all the policewomen on this small isle were suppressed lesbians. But to have her so easily; to be able to mind-meld in an instant, now that was rare. They now had a contact in the UK police force, and who knew when that could be of use.

Concentrating, Alison wondered if she could make contact now. The limo faded into a grey nothingness as Alison’s consciousness left her. She flew over fields of verdant green, before slamming back into reality. Her eyes flickered open and looked out through foreign irises.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Helen blinked, and jumped.

“Are you OK?” a disembodied voice asked.

Helen turned towards the questioner.

“Are you all right, Helen?” the Barman asked.

“Oh yeah, sure, sorry – I was miles away!” Helen paused, “Be back in a minute, George.”

George watched Helen as she walked towards the ladies’ room.

‘If only I could just work up the courage to ask her out.’ Inwardly George sighed, wishing his public persona could break him out of his deep shyness.

Helen walked on, unaware of the admiring eyes following her; her current concern was only about one thing – how to control this feeling of urgent, burning, alien desire. She closed the cubicle door behind her, and ripped her jeans down with such force that her pants followed the rapid descent. Helen stared in disbelief at the dark stains on her crumpled clothes, how could she be so wet?

Helen cradled her soaking cunt with her extended fingers. To her amazement, her clitoris reared its domed head through her lips. Impatiently, it banged against her dangling thumb, just the way her cat would, when begging for the first feed of the day. Her thumb and fingers surrounded the purring nub and petted away the hunger. Helen threw back her head and mewled. Her pleasure found a voice and it sang a seductive song.

“Are you all right? Do you need help?” an inquisitive voice asked from the far side of the cubicle door.

“Oh yes, I need help!” Helen groaned loudly.

“Open the latch, I’m a first aider.”

Helen pulled the door towards her violently – snapping off the now redundant latch. She moved with incredible speed. Helen grabbed the startled do-gooder and thrust her to her knees. With gay abandon, she smashed her groin into the shocked-open mouth. As her clitoris crushed against an unwilling tongue, Helen came, screaming loudly.

Seconds later the toilet door was flung open, George burst in.

“I knew you weren’t yourself, Helen. I’m here…”

George watched as he saw the panicked look on the kneeling woman’s face dissolve into desire, as her mouth filled with Helen’s ejaculate. He saw the unrestrained bliss on Helen’s face. He saw how truly wasted his love was.

Alison groaned as the mutual orgasm hit her. Although separated in space and time, the feeling was deeply shared. Really mutual; the climax of two souls melded into one. As she recovered, Alison laughed, amazed at her own power. The British Bobbies didn’t know what was about to hit them.

                --------------------------------

Virginia hastened her pumping legs as she left the village of Tuckingmill. She was close now, a couple of miles - time for a sprint. A month ago, this would have been impossible, but the determination had paid off. Even with all the cycling she wasn't losing much weight yet, but her stamina had definitely improved.

Under her chafing breath, she swore softly at her Celtic ancestors for handing on such unfashionable genes.  Virginia was one of the plump variety of Welsh women.  It actually looked quite normal on her, but not to her eyes. She was so sensible, and yet, Dr Virginia Kemp had tried all the diet plans; when they failed her, she turned to exercise. Virginia was determined to sculpt her body into something from a Vogue magazine. She was not in the slightest neurotic though, no, after all, she would have recognised the symptoms.

She puffed up the incline and into Camborne. The Hospital was close now - in 15 minutes she would be showered, empowered, and ready to start the dreaded 'graveyard' shift. Finally, thankfully, Virginia leant her racing bike against the flint stone wall of the hospital. Humming, she left her precious bike unlocked- something she would never have done in Cardiff; down here, there was so little real crime.

The water stung her reddened skin, and Virginia continued to hum. Soon the hum changed; she burst into one of her many chapel hymns. Her clear melodious tones filled the staff changing rooms. The solo performance provided excellent cover for her assailants, letting them move into position undetected.

Virginia turned off the water, and drew back the curtain. She stepped into the steamy room, and donning a towel, went to her locker. She never reached it. From nowhere, a sack was thrown over her head, and unseen arms wrapped around her. Virginia released a muffled protest into the sack.

"If you do as we say, you won't get harmed!"

"Rachael, is that you? Don't be so silly!" Virginia's reply was muted.

"It doesn't matter who it is - you are going to help us escape, you have no choice."

"Escape, how?" Virginia mumbled.

"Drive us to a hiding place. Simple, even you can manage that."

"I came on my bike!" Virginia was even more indistinct.

"What? Speak up, that makes no sense!"

"I came on my BIKE!" Virginia shouted, into the sacking.

"Oh great! Marvellous! Thank you very much..."

"There's always the van," another voice chimed in.

"Pearl? Has she suckered you into this madness as well?" Virginia asked.

A savage kick to the shin was her reply, followed by a barked question.

"Where are the van keys? Quickly!"

"You'll have to find them. I am not telling you." Virginia sounded resolute.

The towel around her was ripped back, and pinching, twisting fingers dug deep into her breast, torturing her trapped nipple.

"Tell me, or I will rip this off!"

Something in the voice told Virginia this was no idle threat. It was the manic promise of someone on the very edge. Suddenly Virginia was very frightened, very frightened indeed.

"My locker." Virginia said, nodding sullenly towards the grey cabinet that had been in front of her.

"Better, much better!"

Virginia bounced uncomfortably as her shoulder struck the ridged metal floor of the hospital van. She lay dazed for a few seconds, and then sat up. She shuffled cautiously forward; her naked toes struck the rear doors - she pushed in vain, the doors held fast. A sudden lurch threw her sidewards, and confirmed to her that the van was being driven by a relative novice. Desperately she scrabbled at the sacking covering her head and this time it gave way.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and she saw a scrap of paper had been pinned onto her towel. Examination revealed it as a page from a school book, a passage from Shakespeare. One paragraph was circled in red ink. Virginia read:

"What are these, So withered, and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on’t?"

Virginia looked up, wondering just what the hell all of this was about? Turning her head, she had the oddest of feelings; She was greeted by an insane stare of two wild eyes. The eyes were tinged with an unusual red cast. Could this be an effect of the rear view mirror they glared into?

The van shuddered to a premature halt. The glaring eyes disappeared from the mirror, and then re-appeared at the grill above the driver’s seat. Seen directly, the redness and piercing gaze had an even more unearthly quality. Virginia recoiled, shuddered and felt her 
cool exterior crack. Her scream filled the van’s cab.

No one heard. The driver concentrated on the journey ahead once more, and the van lurched forwards. The white van sped headlong through the hospital gates, as its captive wept for her future.

               --------------------------------

Chapter six: The Seeds of Time.

Lalo shivered; this was a cold, damp, unwelcoming place. Why had she been drawn to this long neglected, remote place? Clouds of exhaled breath billowed before her, as she gazed at the algae stained concrete walls, and sighed.

The journey from home to the reservoir, on foot, had been an arduous one. Lalo would never be able to understand why her mother had panicked so much. Her mind drifted back to her bedroom; she remembered, Cath and her, lying together, entwined with her Mum. The three of them were gently recovering from their sexual excesses, but what had happened to spook her Mum? Lalo relaxed, forcing her mind back; back into the heady feelings, which she had experienced in the afterglow of the sexual gymnastics, and then she saw it.

No, that wasn’t entirely right. At first, she had felt it; the room had grown warmer, the atmosphere sultry, and then the light, a dull red glow. That was the moment Maldea had flown into a frenzy of packing. Within minutes, they were out of the house and walking. Then Mum had done the oddest of things, she asked Lalo where to go, as if she would know!

Even stranger, Lalo did know, and she directed her mother south. After hours of fruitless trekking, they had arrived here, Sithian’s reservoir with its decrepit, abandoned bunker. As soon as Lalo saw the deserted large ‘Pill box’, she had known; this was the ‘place’. The only questions that still ranked high in her mind were why? What force had bought her here, and why did she now feel safe?

“Come on, Lalo, no time for reflection – there’s much to be done!” said Maldea.

“Done, here! What can be done?” asked Lalo.

“Lots. We can make this bunker feel more like home. I won’t let my standards drop.”

“Can’t we just go home? Dad will be worried.”

“No! He would never understand what happened between us all, how could he?”

“Dad’s a good man, he would forgive us.”

“You are right; your Dad is a good, honest man. I, on the other hand, have broken the law; abused you and Cath. He would go to the police, Lalo, and I would go to prison.”

“Dad wouldn’t do that, surely. He wouldn’t want that.”

“Probably not, but if he did – I would go to jail, and you would go into care! Is that what you want?”

“No, I suppose not,” Lalo agreed.

“That’s settled then, now roll your sleeves up. We have work to do, and quickly, if we are to be ready for our guests.”

“We are going to have visitors? Here?” Lalo gasped.

“No, oh I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I have. Now work.”

Lalo grumbled, and cast a long glance at Cath, who had been hanging back, only too happy to keep out of the family squabbles. Cath shrugged, and idly kicked some of the rubbish on the floor of the bunker. She turned her back to Lalo and gazed out of the long, narrow slit in the bunker wall.

Cath could see why the bunker had been placed here; she had a perfect view of the whole width of Stithian’s reservoir. In the distance, she could make out the tip of Crowan beacon, an earlier form of early warning system. For, over the centuries many had tried, and failed, to invade this remote corner of England. Cath wondered what they were doing here, and just what they needed to be alert to.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lalo.

“Cath, will you help me clean this place up?”

“Sure, where’s your mum going?”

“She’s off to get some supplies – she might be gone a while, she has to hitch hike to Redruth.”

“I hope she’s back before it gets dark, this place unnerves me.”

                  ---------------------------

The van had only travelled a few miles when it quaked and stopped. Virginia scrambled to her feet, and moved to the rear window. The van was lopsided; part perched on a bank. All Virginia could see was lush woodland. Her location screening came to a sudden end as Rachael’s face popped up, her eyes wild and flaming. Still hunched over, Virginia retreated as far as the cargo hold would allow her. She felt the solid bulkhead bite into her back through her slack towelling robe.

The rear door wrenched open, and Rachael entered, followed quickly by Pearl. Virginia watched the teenagers as if her life depended on it. Rachael reached out and calmly pulled the rear door shut, the interior dimmed. Rachael knelt down and tugged at Pearl’s jeans. She pulled her down to face her. Rachael reached out in a casual manner and brushed against the kneeling figure.

Pearl shivered, reacting to the slow caress of Rachael’s fingertips as they wandered over her cotton blouse. Rachael’s fingers located her buttons, and plucked them free from their fastenings. Virginia could hear her own breathing pause as the blouse fell open, sliding free of Pearl’s sloping shoulders.

Trapped in a voyeuristic prison, Virginia wondered at Pearl’s transformation; gone was the terrified girl, a young sexual being had shed its cocoon. The display offended and excited Virginia in equal measure. When Pearl turned her head and looked directly at Virginia, the older woman understood. She wished she hadn’t, but she saw the inevitability of her future.

Rachael gently rotated Pearl’s head back in her direction. She mouthed two words. Even in the dim light of the van, Virginia could easily lip read.

“She’s yours.”

Virginia froze, she felt like the butterfly – gazing at the collector, net in hand. As Pearl walked towards her crouched form, she wondered at herself. Cat-like, Pearl stalked her prey.

“Now Pearl, you don’t have to do what Rachael tells you. Stop before this goes too far,” Virginia pleaded.

Pearl hesitated, and Virginia stepped forward, reaching out for the consolatory hug. The force of Pearl’s slap threw the doctor backwards and Virginia landed inelegantly on her padded rump. Pearl flew at her, not giving the shocked counsellor any time to recover. The teenager’s hands were everywhere; in the space of seconds, they were under the robe and on Virginia’s plump breasts.

The trapped counsellor fought to retain her composure and dignity. She had almost struggled free when she felt a wet mouth clamp over her sex. Her mind reeled, as Virginia fought against the increased longing, trying to concentrate on her professionalism instead. She blocked her passion, and was just about to force the teenagers off her, as Rachael’s active tongue located her clitoris. Pearl bore down and trapped Virginia’s stiff nipple between her teeth; Virginia made one last supreme effort of will and pushed the pale girl from her bosom.

Pearl flew back, and then slumped down, her chest crashing onto Virginia’s face. The counsellor’s open mouth was suddenly filled with a stiff throbbing bud of flesh. Virginia tried in vain to spit out the stiff nub from her mouth; which drove Pearl wilder in her lust. Virginia felt Pearl’s prominent pubic bone driving rhythmically against the taut muscle of her thigh. Virginia came, and her professionalism went.

                  ------------------------

Helen woke late, as was her habit on ‘off duty’ days. As the morning progressed she began to feel guilty, in the way that only seems to curse the female of the species. ‘I really can’t spend the whole of my day off lazing around – I really should do something,’ she thought, gazing at the early afternoon TV. Then it occurred to her, it had been so long since she had really cleaned the kitchen! It may not be spring but a ‘spring clean’ was in order. Helen happily busied herself – she had found something ‘worthwhile’ to fill her afternoon.

By half past three, the kitchen was looking like a bomb-site; cupboards flung open – their contents strewn across the work surfaces. Cloth in hand, Helen strenuously buffed the shelves of the cupboard under the sink. ‘If a job’s worth doing…’ she thought to herself as she merrily hummed. Mid buff she was interrupted, by an unexpected sound, the doorbell chimed once, and then again. ‘Who can that be?’ Helen wondered, as she peeled off her yellow ‘marigold’ gloves, which she tossed into the sink and headed off to meet her unexpected caller.

Helen spied through the reeded glass beside the front door, but it was no use. The caller was too far back to make out anything other than a blue-grey blur. She swung the door open, and looked at the unknown woman.

“Sorry, but I don’t buy anything at the door. Avon, is it, or Bettaware?” Helen enquired of the be-suited woman.

“No it’s nothing like that, don’t you recognise me, Helen?”

“Well, you look a bit familiar – did we meet at a conference?”

“No, it was a bit less formal than that!” The woman giggled.

Helen blanched, now she remembered her. She had never seen her at this angle before.

“What do you want?” Helen asked.

“Just a chat.”

“How did you find me?”

“The barman, George? He seems a nice sort; I told him we were old friends. He was a bit embarrassed, but finally he told me where you lived. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Um sorry, yes, yes, yes, yes of course, come in,” Helen sighed quietly.

Helen watched warily as the woman wandered towards her lounge. Her mind raced ‘What does she want? Why would she confront me? Shit, I hope this isn’t going to be too heavy.’ The woman made herself at home, settling down on Helen’s couch. She even had the audacity to nod at the armchair across from her. Without protest Helen sat, and waited.

“About last night…” no sooner had the woman started to speak, Helen interrupted her.

“Yes I’m sorry about that; I don’t normally ravish people,”

No reply came; the woman simply paused, and eventually, reluctantly, started to speak again.

“About last night, I have never been a fan of perverted sex. In fact, I divorced my husband due to his addiction to telephone sex lines. My daughter and I live alone and I have been celibate for years,” she sighed, “so you can imagine my shock…”

Once again, Helen butted in.

“I can only apologise, I mean, what more do you want?”

“I want you to stop interrupting me; this is difficult enough without your continual interruptions,” she sighed again, “so you can imagine my shock, when I found myself so carried away. You broke through my defences! My taboos! I have rubbed my poor neglected slit raw – I’m insatiable. Now what are your intentions?”

Helen frowned.

“My intentions, what the hell do you mean? Do you expect me to marry you?” Helen’s mouth cracked open, and emitted a low chuckle.

“It’s not funny. I am a responsible mother; god knows what young Katie thought I was up to last night. I need to know where I stand.”

“Katie, is that your daughter? How old is she?”

“Katie is sixteen, not that it’s any of your business!”

“If she’s sixteen, Katie will know exactly what you were up to,” Helen smiled.

The woman blushed as her confident, ladylike air vanished. Before Helen she crumbled, her resolve crushed. She wept openly. Helen suddenly felt very cruel; she hadn’t meant to wound her opponent so deeply. She stood and walked to the woman’s side, laying a comforting hand on her heaving shoulder.

The woman looked up; rivulets of eye shadow streaked her pale cheeks. Her trembling lips opened as she groaned her desire.

“I want you so much, Helen. It hurts. What’s wrong with me? I’m not like this normally.”

Helen smiled gently at the tearful woman.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Ethna–Jo Merill.”

“Listen Ethna–Jo, you and Katie will be just fine. Helen is on your case now. Dry your eyes - we will sort this all out.”

Helen ruffled Ethna-Jo’s grey flecked dark mane of hair. She drank in the undisguised admiration burning in Ethna-Jo’s brown eyes. ‘This,’ Helen thought, ‘is going to be fun.’

                   -----------------------------

Maldea struggled along the path, weighed down with six packed ‘Safeway’ carrier bags. She turned the corner, and walked from the quiet of Agar Road into the comparative bustle of the Illogan Highway. Maldea eyed the bus stop; she couldn’t afford to waste any money. Every time she accessed the account, she risked discovery, and even worse, losing Lalo!

Grunting with effort, she traipsed back towards the 393 bus stop to Perranaworth. Half way up Tolgus Mount, she rested. As she straightened up from depositing her carriers, she was amazed by the commotion on the road beside her. A large car swerved across the lanes of traffic, ignoring the horns and flashing lights, and performed a very risky U-turn.

She watched agape, as the stretch limo slowed, without indicating, and finally stopped beside her. A black window rolled smoothly down into the black bodywork, and a beaming black face peered out.

“Hi!”

“Hi,” Maldea responded, “are you guys lost?”

“Not any more, Maldea, not any more.”

Maldea was just going to ask how the passenger had known her name, when one of the rear windows slipped down. The face that appeared answered all of Maldea’s questions.

Soon her shopping was stowed in the boot of the limo, and Maldea sat between two of ‘Les Bitches’. Gazing at the rest of the band, she finally found her tongue.

“Of course I know you guys, who wouldn’t? But how do you know me?”

“Know you? We not only know you, we admire you. We also need you, you and Lalo. You could say you are our future,” said Margit.

“You need us?” Maldea shivered.

“Yes, you see, Maldea, we know all about you. You and Jeff destroyed our bloodline. We were brought together by our Kainite sisters to resolve the largest threat to the kindred. You wiped them all out before we arrived. Most impressive!”

“Yes, I suppose we did. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why do you need us?”

“You, my dear Maldea, are an orphan; one whose ancestral line had a vampyre bite. In the distant past, a vampyre bit one of your relatives, but that relative, who must have been as resourceful as you, escaped the final conversion. This makes you an orphan, pre-determined to be attracted to the Wampyr.”

“Why does this matter?” asked Maldea.

“Normally it wouldn’t, other than you dying early if unbitten. But in your case you bred, by chance, with another orphan, from a different Wampyr bloodline.”

“Jeff?”

“Yes and your offspring is unique. Lalo is the spawn of two noble Wampyr clans. She may hold the clue to the final cure.”

“A cure for vampirism?”

“No, a cure for the genetic mutation that causes the premature death of orphans. A way to hide our existence from the prying eyes of modern science.”

“We won’t help. I have fought you before and won, and I will win again,” Maldea spat.

“Enough!” growled Margit, “It is time for your full induction to the kindred, time to still your rebellious heart!”

Maldea tried to shrink away from the myriad hands that reached for her. She struggled against them as they rudely shredded her clothes, trying to ignore the heat being kindled in her stomach. Sylvie’s slim hands hovered just above Maldea’s trembling bare breasts. As the hands lowered, Maldea saw the palms smile as they opened the serrated sphincters that would gorge on the life-blood from her nipples. Maldea screamed her last human scream.

                  ------------------------------

Cath rushed across the bunker to where Lalo had collapsed. Tenderly she turned her friend over and stroked her face.

“Lalo, Lalo, can you hear me?”

“Mmmmm, sorry Cath, what happened?”

“You fainted, Lalo, don’t you remember?”

“Remember, remember, oh yes – I remember! Mum – she’s in danger, we are in danger,” Lalo paused, and looked directly into Cath’s eyes, “If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear, Your favours nor your hate.”

“Macbeth? Why are you quoting Macbeth? Lalo, Lalo!”

Lalo did not respond; she was unconscious again. Cath cuddled her friend, as she tried to ignore the dank bunker, the approaching darkness, and her own fear. Catherine Hebbert had never felt so alone.

                 ----------------------------------

Chapter seven: A Foul Day.

Jeff sat waiting impatiently. This was one of the things that most frustrated him about this Country and this peculiar outpost of it, the apparent slowness of life. Everything here had its place and time, and when it came to time, plenty of it. He gazed around the Police Station; it was odd, the cop shop was located in Plymouth Railway Station – it could only happen in Cornwall!

“Mr Contadino? My Sergeant tells me you insist on seeing someone in authority. I’m sure he has explained the situation; your family have only been missing for a very short period of time. They may well turn up of their own accord.”

“Listen buddy, I have just about had my fill. Are you going to take action, or are the police in this damn country IMPOTENT? YOU KNOW LACKING IN BALLS?”

The inspector stepped back, cocked his head and adopted a conciliatory tone.

“You are clearly upset, Mr Contadino, I will find a room and we will discuss this further. By the way, I’m Inspector Bright, at your service,” the tubby man extended his hand.

Jeff grasped it firmly and awarded it a cursory shake.

“Thank you.”

Five minutes later the policeman returned.

“This way please, Mr Contadino,” he said.

Jeff sat down on the hard plastic chair and swung his long legs under the Formica topped table. He related most of his tale to an apparently uninterested audience. Suddenly the inspector became more animated.

“You said three people were missing, your wife, daughter and a friend.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Jeff replied.

“What’s the friend’s name?”

“I don’t know, I’m guessing. Because of the panties, there were three pairs,” Jeff said.

“Would the name Hebbert mean anything to you?”

“No, why?” Jeff asked.

“No reason. Panties, you said panties, am I to assume they left naked?” the inspector asked.

“How the hell do I know? I wasn’t there! Panties, three pairs crumpled on the floor, dirty panties, oh god …” Jeff started to sniffle.

“Dirty, what do you mean, dirty?” the inspector frowned.

“You know, stiff, full of… secretions,” Jeff motioned vaguely with his hand, pointing downwards.

The inspector blanched a little, his face displayed open disgust.

“Wait here, Mr Contadino, I need to confirm something.”

“Sure.”

The inspector walked from the room and secured the door quietly. He quickly made his way to the front desk.

“Jack, that Hebbert girl, when did her mother report her missing?”

“Let me see, that’d be Wednesday night, George.”

“Wednesday, 48 hours ago, hmmm…”

“What is it George, you think our Yank was involved?” Jack asked.

“Could be, he’s a weirdo this one, he’s got this thing about panties.”

“Panties?” asked Jack.

“Hmmm, bit odd wouldn’t you say? Get Lorna to come and join me. I’m in interview room number three.”

“Will do, d’you want some coffee?”

“Please Jack, I have a feeling this one may take a while!”

               --------------------------

Rachael drove aimlessly into the dimming twilight, her eyes scouting the horizons for somewhere to hole up for the night. The van swept past a dull grey stretch of water. Pearl suddenly sat up, pointing through the side window.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Rachael stared at the narrow sliver of light half way up the hill on her left. She squinted and then smiled wickedly.

“I have no idea, Pearl, but whoever is up there is about to get three unexpected visitors.”

“I can’t see how we can get up there,” Pearl said.

Rachael glared at her nervous companion.

“Spare me the worry, we’ll get up there, you see if we don’t!”

A few hundred yards further, and Rachael swung the van violently to the left. The gears ground in protest as the van lurched unsteadily up a rutted track. Rachael was in her element; Pearl on the other hand, hid, peeking out from between her whitened fingers. With a ferocious whoop, Rachael skidded to a halt. Cruelly she laughed at the sound of Virginia’s limp body as it bounced around the rear of the van.

“We have arrived! And to prove it, we are here…” Rachael giggled.

“Where, though, what is this place?” asked Pearl.

Rachael reached across and crushed Pearl’s cheeks between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. Savagely she kissed Pearl, and then pulled away.

“That’s for you to find out my love, off you go!” Rachael ordered.

“But, it’s dark, I, I don’t…” Pearl started to protest.

“Yes you do. You can! We can do anything!” Rachael’s eyes flashed passionately.

Pearl shuffled her bottom, opened the door and dropped with a sigh on to the damp grass. She glanced back, a short look that silently asked ‘Do I have to?’ She knew the answer, so shrugging she turned and plodded off to explore.

Rachael started an exploration of her own; she drove her trembling hands under the waistband of her jeans. Urgent fingers separated her slick, wrinkled labia. Rachael grunted as her own fingertips ravished her plump clitoris. ‘God I’m so hot, so powerful, nothing can stop me!’ Rachael thrust her hips upwards driving her wet digits deep inside her contracting opening. Screaming into the night, Rachael came again and again.

Pearl cautiously tiptoed inside the doorway, running her fingers over the rough wooden door. She slunk along in the shadows, creeping towards the only source of light she could see. Suddenly the light swung her way, blazing directly in her eyes.

“Stop there, who are you? What do you want?” a voice screamed.

“I’m Pearl; I’m looking for somewhere to sleep.”

“And you picked here? You must be as desperate as me!”

“Maybe, I am.”

“Do you know any first aid, Pearl?” the voice asked.

“No, why are you hurt?”

“Not me, but my friend Lalo needs help.”

Pearl walked forward into the arc of light. She looked at the two girls. A pale girl with auburn tresses sat on her haunches, the other girl’s head rested limply in her lap.

“Is she dead?” Pearl asked.

“No, she is breathing, just.”

“So, she’s Lalo, who are you?”

“I’m Cath, can you help?”

“I can’t, but I have a doctor with me outside, she might be able to.”

“A doctor! Great, go and get her.”

“Um, can you help me carry her in? She’s unconscious at the moment.”

Cath sullenly shook her head in disbelief.

“Lead on, McDuff,” she said.

                  ------------------------------

Inspector George Clunes stared at his empty tea cup, and then he looked at Detective Sergeant Mills. He winked once, whistled under his breath and spoke in a low melodious tone.

“So, Mr Contadino, erm, Jeff. Now let me confirm what you have told us. You came home, and found evidence of your wife having had an orgy with Lalo your daughter, and one of her school friends. Correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Good, now you say that the three of them had been abducted by persons unknown. Correct?” The inspector asked.

“Not unknown, I’ve told you who I suspect.”

“Oh yes, an internationally famed group of superstars! Who happen to be lesbian vampires! I almost forgot…” Clunes let his disbelief show.

“I know it sounds a bit unlikely,” Jeff replied.

“Unlikely? Unlikely! I have heard some poor, ill-thought out alibis in my time. But this takes the ticket. Now, how about confiding in us, try telling us the truth.”

“I have been.”

Clunes stood up, and gripped the edge of the table; his face turned pale with undisguised rage. He extended a shaking finger and went to click off the tape recorder.

“Interview suspended at 21:15, toilet break,” he glared down at Jeff, “I am going to evacuate my bladder. I suggest you do the same to your mind. Flush away this vampire crap, and come up with the truth, all right, Mr Contadino?”

Jeff spoke quietly to the Detective Sergeant.

“Has he had a bad day, or what?”

“You are pushing him too far, Jeff, he’s bound to get tetchy,” she replied.

“I’m pushing him too far! I’ve had enough of this crap. I will find them myself!”

“You can’t leave until Inspector Clunes returns.”

“OK, I’ll wait for the laughing policeman. I’ll tell him what I think of British justice, and then I’ll leave!” Jeff spat.

“Good, now settle down, he’ll be back in a minute,” Lorna advised.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to get so twitchy, I’m just upset.”

“It’s OK, I understand, do you really believe your wife has been taken by vampires?”

“Oh, I don’t think Sergeant, I know so!”

“Fine, well, I’m sure we will find them for you.”

“You mean it, you believe me?”

“May be, I’ve heard things on the grapevine…”

At that moment, Inspector Clunes walked back into the room, slamming the steel door behind him.

“What are you both looking so sheepish about?”

                   ----------------------------

As Cath followed Pearl’s slim form, she wondered at the recent changes in her life. All things taken, she was happier; no that was the wrong phrase ‘more satisfied’ with her lot. But she had never been so afraid, Mum, her school and all the ‘normal’ safe things seemed distant memories. It was so exciting and her confidence was growing, but so was her fear; just where was she going?

The cool outside air washed over Cath and stirred her from the reflections on her life. Pearl dashed off to the driver’s door of a white van, which was parked nearby. The van trembled as the engine cut out. A shadowy figure emerged from the cab, something about its motion was familiar, that cocky gait, Cath knew she had seen it somewhere…

Once Cath’s eyes adjusted to the headlights glare, she was certain, there was no need for an identity parade; it was the usual suspect. Cath stiffened against Rachael’s unexpected hug, as confusion masked Cath’s young face. Rachael broke away, and then placed a warm kiss on Cath’s gaping lips.

“OK sister, what help do you need?” Rachael asked.

“Umm, Lalo’s sick, I think she may be dying…”

“That bitch!” Rachael spat, “dying is too good for her.”

“I’m serious, Rachael, she doesn’t look good.”

“I was serious too, petal, but for you…”

Rachael reached out with her hand, still damp from her self-fondling, and stroked Cath’s auburn hair. Sensuously she wound a tress around her fingers. Cath reacted to the touch by backing away.

“It’s all right Cath, it’s no longer an issue; lets just say, the last few days have opened more than my eyes,” Rachael laughed.

“Please, just help her!”

“Sure, Pearl, wake up the sleeping beauty--it may be she does have her uses,” Rachael ordered.

Pearl scurried away to the rear of the vehicle, several noisy seconds later, she emerged complete with the older woman slumped against her. Cath moved forward and slung the woman’s flopping left arm over her shoulder; together the threesome trudged towards the bunker.

“Are you sure she’s in a fit state to help anyone?” Cath asked.

Rachael burst into peals of harsh laughter.

“That’s the trouble with older woman, Cath, as you’ll find out, they have no stamina!”

Cath ignored the jibe, and struggled to get the semi-conscious woman through the restrictive doorway. A surprise awaited Cath when she finally manoeuvred into the dim bunker; Lalo stood at its centre calmly watching the odd procession.

“Lalo! You’re OK?” Cath puffed.

“Rachael’s arrival woke me,” said Lalo.

“Rachael? How did you know?” asked Cath.

“Rachael and I are sort of – connected.”

“But not for much longer, you fucking bitch!” Rachael screamed.

Like a swooping Harpy, Rachael flew across the dank bunker, her hands extended, her fingers bent into claws.

“I’m going to rip your eyes out…”

Rachael never got to the expletive in her sentence; her body hit an invisible wall, crumpled slightly, and then flipped, hurtling into the side of the bunker. Winded and crushed, Rachael slid down the wall and sunk to her knees at its base.

Lalo calmly turned her attention to the woman that hung supported between Pearl and Cath. Lalo’s right hand rested on Virginia’s wavy brown hair. Her eyes closed momentarily and Lalo spoke softly under her breath. Virginia Kemp returned to the land of the living.

This task completed, Lalo swung around regally and glared down at Rachael.

“The days of the playground are over Rachael. Here, I am the mistress, and you are but a novice,” Lalo paused, and picked her words, “do you pledge allegiance to me? Or do you still wish to play schoolgirl games? Think carefully before you answer.”

Rachael cursed under her breath, she was about to speak, but then paused. Finally, her reply emerged.

“Allegiance.”

“Good, that is, for once, a sensible decision.”

Lalo stood back and gazed at Pearl and Rachael--the words she spoke came to her from the ether.

“So foul and fair a day I have not seen”

                ------------------------------

“Interview resumed 21:21. Present, Inspector George Clunes, Detective Sergeant Lorna Mills and the suspect, Jeff Contadino.”

“Suspect? What do you suspect me of? I’m just here to find my family,”

“Me, I’m suspicious by nature. Must be why I’m a policeman. I’m not sure exactly what I do suspect you of at present. It could be, rape, abduction, false imprisonment, murder or just wasting police time. But be sure of this, I’m going to nail you on one of them.”

“I protest! I’m innocent of anything, all I want is help.”

“Ah, a cry for help was it?” The inspector asked.

“Listen you fool, I’m going to walk out of that door, and then I’m going to go and try to find my family.”

“Sergeant, read Mr Contadino his rights, and make the charge kidnap and suspected murder. Goodnight, Mr Contadino, I hope a night in our cells will cure your fantasies. Tomorrow, we can have a more down to earth chat.”

Without as much as a second glance, Inspector Clunes stomped out of the room; behind him he heard the pleasant tones of Lorna’s voice.

“You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence…”

George slapped his hands together and rubbed them with glee, this was the big one he had waited for!

How right he was; yet how little he knew.

               ---------------------------------

Chapter eight: Come What Come May.

Janet stepped out of the steaming shower and wrapped a towel around her. She rushed to the stairs, cursing softly under her breath. Why had she left the cordless phone downstairs?

“I’m coming, hang on!” 

Janet shouted pointlessly, at the warbling phone. Finally she reached it, silently amazed that the caller hadn’t rung off. ‘If this is double glazing, I will kill them!’ she thought.

“Hello, Janet Widdowson speaking.”

“Hi! Jeff, how are you? What are you doing calling this late?”

“Wait, what do you mean one call? Police, are you in some kind of trouble?”

“They think what?” Janet pulled the phone away from her and stared at it, stunned she put the receiver back to her ear, “Murder, you, but that’s…”

“Look calm down, I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Have you contacted a solicitor?”

“You idiot, that was what the phone call was for!”

“That’s very flattering Jeff, but what can I do?”

“OK, calm down, I’ll get dressed and leave now.”

“No, no one, I was in the shower, Jeff.”

“OK, love you too, see you, bye.”

Janet rested the phone back on the table; she studied her reflection in the hall mirror and wondered. ‘Could he, would he be capable?’ She instantly dismissed her disloyal thoughts. Turned on her heels, and ran up the stairs, clearing them three at a time.

The Impreza WRX purred into life, she gripped the leather covered steering wheel and revved the car into frenzy. One quick check of the digital clock, 22:07, Janet toe poked the accelerator and stormed off her driveway. The Subaru flashed along the A556 towards the M6. Janet swung onto the slip road and pointed her car south, she sighed in relief, for once, the dreaded motorway was clear.

Her relief turned to steely desperation within miles; her performance car, well capable of 150mph, crawled along in the queued traffic. She could just make out the flashing sign; squinting into the distance, it confirmed her worst fears. ‘Motorway closed between Jct 16 and 15’. Janet’s finger jabbed at the controls of her navigation system - if she went down the A500 she could get across to Derby and the M1. It was way off her route, but it might just be faster than this.  

Janet’s instinct proved right and the miles thundered past her in a blur of overtaken lorries and cars. Her eyes flitted constantly between the road and the navigation screen. Her drive was temporarily slowed around Oxford and she studied the navigator intensely, junction 13 of the M4 was only 28 miles south. A quick glance at the clock, 0:23, not bad, she might just make it before daybreak.

Her mood darkened over the next few miles though; the journey became tiresome, ‘at this rate Jeff will be out on probation before I get there,’ she thought glumly. At last she reached the M4, and she opened up the Subaru, true to its STi rating, the car flew forward, hungrily wanting to gobble up the miles to Cornwall. The sound of the siren was most unwelcome; Janet glanced in her rear view mirror as she eyed the blue flashing lights with contempt. For a second, she considered trying to outrun the squad car, but her commonsense kicked in and she slowed to a crawl, pulling over onto the hard shoulder.

Janet just had time to check her lipstick and hitch up her skirt before the expected tap came on the side window. She pressed the button and stuck her head out of the window with her best ‘come hither’ look on her face. Janet’s face fell, just her luck!

The red-haired policewoman smiled back, before bending to address her.

“Good evening Madam, in a hurry are we?” She asked sweetly.

“I am actually, I know I was going a little fast, but a friend of mine is in serious trouble,” Janet replied.

“They’re not alone; do you know the speed you were doing? It was an average of 126mph over 2.63 miles. Impressive, but also enough for a ban, and even prison, should the judge so wish!”

“But you don’t understand, my friend’s been arrested,” Janet protested.

“For some reason, I don’t find that too surprising,” the WPC laughed, “you may be too. Now, if you would like to walk to my squad car and get in the rear, we will have a little chat. You can tell me all about your friend. I will tell you all about the fatalities that excessive speed brings to our county.”

Janet felt very small as she gazed into the green eyes of the WPC. The policewoman made a few notes, and then talked into her radio.

“OK, so she checks out, fine thanks,” the WPC beamed, “so at least it is your car you are burning up Berkshire with. OK, give me the excuse, but I warn you I’ve heard most of them.

Janet sighed, and began to explain; this was turning out to be a very long night.

                      -----------------------

The bunker was quiet, all lay in darkness, all slept. In the valley below, shadows moved, assuredly following dimmed lights, deliberate but slow in its search. The inside of the limo was not as calm, Les Bitches crowded around Maldea. They took long luxurious draughts of Maldea’s life blood. After each vampyres’ kiss, her resolve waned further, and in doing so, led them further towards their ultimate prey.

Back in the bunker, someone stirred, awakened by the closeness of danger. Lalo sat up and hugged her knees into her chest. Her breath stuttered out of her body in fearful gasps, tears welled up in her dark eyes. She felt a gentle movement beside her.

“What’s up?” asked Cath.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” Lalo whispered.

“It’s not nothing; you forget how well I know you.”

“My mother returns,” said Lalo, flatly.

“Surely that’s good?”

“She doesn’t want to come here, but she must. She’s not alone,” Lalo replied.

“Should we go?” Asked Cath.

“It’s too late,” answered Lalo.

Lalo looked sadly at Cath, and then nodded towards the door. Cath could see a dimly outlined figure, but it was too large to be Maldea. Gradually the room was illuminated by a dull red glow. One after another, the occupants of the room awoke. The atmosphere grew heavy with the sultry scent of incense, a fog of longing descended on the bunker. At long last, the figure moved, raising her hands and sweeping back the edges of her floor length cloak. Slowly, deliberately, she revealed her spectacular curves to her spellbound audience.

“I am Margit; I have come for my acolyte. Make yourself known.”

Without hesitation, Lalo stood and turned to face Margit.

“I am here, I am ready…” Said Lalo.

“Good, what is this place – why are you here?”

“We are hiding; Mum said it was best to.”

“No, little one, I instructed you to find a remote hideaway. We needed a remote rendezvous, I must admit you excelled; even if this place is a bit austere for my tastes,” Margit paused, “now the hiding is over, you are all coming with us, guests of ‘Les Bitches’.”

A hubbub broke out in the dim bunker.

“Follow me, bring your vehicles, we are going somewhere special.”

“Where are we going?” Asked Pearl.

“Who are you, girl?” Margit asked.

“I’m Pearl.”

“Come to me, Pearl,” said Margit.

Pearl sidled up to Margit; the woman extended an arm and drew Pearl under her cloak and close to her side.

“You will travel with me in the Limo.”

“Cool, but where are we going?”

“To the Imperial Hotel Torbay,” Margit answered.

“The Imperial! You have rooms there?”

“Rooms, no, we have the whole top floor!” Margit laughed.

“Wow, excellent…”

“Well, let’s get there then,” said Margit.

She held the door wide open, and silently the assembled, entranced girls’ walked out into the still of the night. Virginia followed meekly, for their journey was now hers.

                   ------------------------

He looked around the room as she showed the police to the door, it was a pleasant, if somewhat cramped, living room. He breathed in and let out a low exasperated sigh, what she expected him to do about the situation was beyond him. Still, she had asked him to stay after the police had gone, and he felt, under the circumstances, obliged. He listened to her footsteps coming closer, what could he say? He, the ultimate professional, was as confused as everyone else.

She opened the door and smiled at him, he watched her intensely, searching her face for clues. 

“Drink doctor?” She asked.

“No, thank you, I have to drive,” he replied.

“Coffee then or tea?”

“No, nothing, thank you, I’m fine.” 

“OK, do you mind if I do?” she asked, “I need a bit of a lift.”

“Of course, understood, it’s been a shocking few days for us all.”

Jolene returned and placed her generous glass of white wine on the table, before settling down opposite the doctor. Self consciously, she smoothed down her skirt. The doctor blushed, adverted his eyes, and shifted a little uncomfortably.

“How can I help, Mrs Savage? This is more the police’s arena than mine now,” Dr Fazakerly asked.

“I know, I just don’t understand it, you assured me the hospital was the best place for Rachael, and now she has vanished.” 

“Ah yes, unfortunately it looks as if Rachael was more disturbed than any of us realised!”

“Do you really think my girl abducted this counsellor, and another patient?”

“Well, it looks as if Rachael and Pearl may have been in cahoots, but there’s no doubt about the abduction, security cameras can’t tell lies.”

“But Rachael has never done anything like this before.”

“Jolene, I’m sorry, but it was clearly Rachael driving the van,” Justin stated.

Jolene dissolved into tears, sobbing deeply.

“Will, will, I see her again,” Jolene stuttered.

Dr Fazakerly rose and crossed the room; he sat beside Jolene and slung a supportive arm around her shoulders. She nestled into him and calmed a little. 

“The police are treating this very seriously, it shouldn’t be too long before we hear,” Justin cooed.

Jolene nodded silently and dabbed her tearful cheeks with a tissue.

“Would you like me to give you a sedative Jolene? Sleep can be very restorative,” he asked kindly.

“May be, but I have something to ask you first,” she said.

“Of course, ask away.”

“Ever since that day in the surgery, my life has been upside down. But I have been continuously excited.”

“You are bound to be on edge, it has been a very stressful time Jolene.”

“No, not like that, you know, excited,” Jolene replied, looking hard into the doctor’s eyes.

“Agitated, unsettled?” Justin asked, furrowing his brow.

 “More like, well… Horny,” Jolene smiled.

“Horny!” Justin mouthed.

He moved as far away from Jolene’s warm body as he could.

“What happened stimulated you? You are talking about your daughter’s assault on you?” Justin asked quietly.

“At the time it sickened me but, her touch, it still burns on me.”

Justin watched in horror, as Jolene’s fingers probed under her skirt to indicate the offending area. She arched her back, and sucked her breath raggedly through her teeth.

“I will just get you that sedative, Mrs Savage; I think all of this has taken its toll on you.”

“I don’t want a sedative, Justin, I want a fuck.”

Justin Fazakerly launched himself from the low settee; in his rush he inadvertently caught his ankle on the coffee table. He, the table, and the white wine went flying across the room. Justin landed heavily, and his breath whooshed out of him. Dazed and disorientated he lay still, his wide back flattened to the carpet. 

Jolene was on him in a second, her fingers tearing at the front of his suit trousers. She ripped the tab on his zip down, and her frantic fingers hungrily plundered his boxer shorts. Before he could raise as much as a protest, she had freed his penis.

“Oh my, Justin I never imagined,” Jolene cooed, her eyes widening.

The object of her surprise lay in her hands; it filled both of them, and protruded a good six inches beyond them, he was huge! Jolene’s lips touched, and then swallowed the mighty glans. Justin struggled.

“You mustn’t, Mrs Savage, Jolene, please!” he gasped.

His body betrayed his words, as his cock unfurled, pushing Jolene’s jaws widely apart. He was amazed, his penis still functioned, he had presumed after all these years it was just an accessory. His desire punched him hard; even so, the professional was still to the fore.

“Please stop, this is quite unethical. I can’t, you are a patient,” he begged.

Jolene stopped her ardent sucking and raised her head.

“Rachael’s your patient not me, besides which, do you think we should let this go to waste?” Jolene asked.

Her fingers ran over the pulsing veins of Justin’s erection, and then with an ease, that belied her age, she swivelled her body. Grunting with effort, she brought her crotch into firm contact with the rampant head of Justin’s prick. Her fingers dragged the damp cotton gusset out of the way, and she drove down, skewering her body on his.

Even now, Justin did his best to hold back. He clenched his buttocks and tried in vain, to dislodge the inflamed tip of his knob from Jolene. It was too late. A combination of her liberal lubrication, and the insane lust that drove her, swallowed him. Despite his reserve, his abdomen contacted, and he pushed back, lodging his glans firmly against Jolene’s accommodating cervix.

Together they rutted, for the sex was more animal than human. His inhibition gone, Justin plucked Jolene’s breasts free of her blouse, and smothered them with kisses. The coupling was too intense to be lengthy, and seconds later, Justin erupted, filling Jolene with his hot seed. Jolene’s slippery fingers found her clitoris, and she followed after him, crying her pleasure as she came.

As the unlikely couple relaxed in their new found love, a different tumescence subsided. The large shaft of red light subsided; it withdrew from the living room, slipped out of the hallway and returned towards Rachael’s bedroom.

             ------------------------------------- 

Janet finished her story, she missed out nothing, not the conjecture, not even the pieces she found insane. She blinked and looked deep into the eyes of the police woman; had she believed her?

“Well, that’s an impressive tale, worthy of a TV series,” the WPC smiled.

“But it’s true, most of it, I have had to guess at other parts, Jeff is so secretive.”

“With reason I expect.”

“Do you believe me?” Janet asked.

“Tell me one thing, what was the name of this rock band in New York?”

“The Bitches, or something, I don’t follow that sort of music, I’m more of a classical person.”

“Interesting…” the WPC whistled softly.

“Look please, either charge me, or release me, I must get to Cornwall, Jeff needs me.”

“I’m not going to do either Ma’am.”

“What, I don’t understand?”

“I am going to give you a police escort, follow my car. Oh and don’t hang around.”

“But why?”

“Just call it a favour, I have my reasons,” the WPC smiled.

“Thank you… Umm, what is your name?” Janet asked.

“You can call me Helen.”

“Thank you Helen.”

“Just remember, Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day. OK?” Helen winked.

“Sure, thanks Helen,” Janet smiled.

Janet climbed out of the police car and walked back towards her Subaru ‘What a weirdo,’ she thought.

                   ---------------------------

Chapter nine: Though the Brightest Fell.

She stared up at the shower spray; seconds later the hot water hit her head, plastering her hair to her scalp. The torrent of water washed away the wine–induced fuzziness, and Leanne began to sing.

“Show me Love, 'til it's inside my pores. 
Show me Love, Show me Love, Show me Love, 
Show me Love, Show me Love, 'til I'm screaming for more.”

Leanne held her mouth open and allowed the water to purge her taste buds of last night’s wine. It had been a long time since she had felt this good; all her frustrations seemed a thing of the past. The simple things in life can wash away the deepest of cares. Against her will, Leanne’s mind drifted back to the events of the past week. 

Suddenly she felt incredibly guilty; how could she be so happy when Cath was missing? Leanne turned off the water with reluctance, 'Ah well, back to reality,' she thought glumly. She wondered for the one thousandth time where her daughter could have gone. The police had been very nice, but she was unsure of their enthusiasm when it came to finding errant teenagers.

Water dripped from her cropped black hair, dampening the collar of her towelling robe, as she crossed the landing and returned to her bedroom. Casually she flung the robe onto the crumpled duvet; her eyes caught her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Leanne turned and scrutinised her naked body, 'Not bad, even if I say so myself,' she thought. Her hands caressed the rounded globes of flesh, her fingers teasing the nipples to hard buds. For an instant, the fondling halted, 'I really should get on… I can't, but it's been so long…' she chastised herself. A second later her decision was made.

The damp robe was flung to the floor, and Leanne wiggled her body into the softness of the duvet. She spread her legs as far apart as they would go, and let her fingers plunder the soft wetness of her insatiable vulva. Leanne rolled her crinkled labia between her fingers, and spread the wetness along her trembling slit. Her back arched as the soft massage reached the shaft of her clitoris. Leanne was amazed by the bulk of her normally tiny organ; she gripped its head and slowly wanked it with a smooth motion. Her touch was electric, in seconds she came, driving her hips towards the vibrating digits.

Her lust soared. There was no relief. Her left hand fell lower and the fingers crawled into her humid vagina, spreading it lewdly. The trusting fingers found the area, the resistant spongy spot; she was rewarded by a warm squirt of fluid on her flexing palm. Her contracting fists fell into an established rhythm; Leanne's libido expanded. It filled her. It possessed her completely. 

A link was created, and the ecstatic, erotic download began; images flooded into her fevered brain. Cath appeared before her, her thighs spread wide, whilst a long female tongue fucked her. Leanne drank in the swell of her daughter's breasts, and her tongue lolled from her twitching lips, stretching, reaching for the imagined nipples. Leanne exploded, ignoring the hot stream of piss that ruined her favourite duvet.

Minutes passed, an hour flew by. Eventually Leanne stood; she gazed down at the wreckage of her bed. Tears stung her eyes as she wept for herself, and her absent daughter. After a while, Leanne staggered from her urine fragranced boudoir. She stomped down the stairs, sadly dragging her soggy duvet in her wake. At the foot of the stairs she halted. The headline on the morning paper screamed at her from the doormat. 

‘Man Held Over Local Disappearances – Police Concerned’.

                    --------------------

Janet’s tired eyes struggled to stay open, her head nodded momentarily. Suddenly she was much closer to the rear of the police car than she had remembered, ‘Come on girl, wakey, wakey!’ she thought. Janet brought her right hand down from the steering wheel and slapped her right thigh hard. Her eyes sprung open and her attention was back fully on the road before her. It was not a moment too soon, the Police car indicated and turned into a deserted car park. Janet braked, indicated right and followed Helen’s lead. Seconds later, she sighed contentedly, as she turned off the Subaru’s throbbing engine.

Helen rapped her knuckles against Janet’s driver’s window; it slid down silently.

“Are you OK?” Helen asked.

“Yeah, just tired, I almost lost it at the end there.”

“Well we’re here now, let’s see what these West Country plods have to say for themselves.”

“Haven’t you got to get back?” Janet asked.

“I should, but this is a damn sight more interesting than anything waiting for me in Thames Valley, and I want to help.”

“Thanks,” said Janet, “you’ve already done a lot.”

“Us girls have got to stick together!” Helen smiled.

Janet linked arms with the smiling WPC and walked towards the Railway Station.

Leanne sat patiently in the reception area watching the early morning comings and goings. The latest arrivals walked in, and approached the counter. The taller uniformed one spoke clearly.

“This is Janet Widdowson. I believe you are holding a friend of hers, one Jeff Contadino, on suspicion of murder.”

Before there was any reply from the desk sergeant, Leanne erupted, furiously gesticulating, as she dashed to the counter.

“Jeff! You think Jeff Contadino has murdered my Cathy. Why the hell have I been sat here like a lemon for an hour? ‘Nothing substantive’ you told me, you bastard!”

The pale-faced desk sergeant swallowed hard.

“Please calm down, Mrs Hebbert, there’s nothing to get upset about.”  

“Nothing to… Are you mad? Cathy’s dead and you have the man, but you don’t tell me, I repeat, Are you MAD?” Leanne screamed.

“Mrs Hebbert, we don’t know anything yet. It’s suspected kidnap and murder, there are no bodies or evidence.”

Leanne Hebbert turned and launched a desperate attack on Janet; her fists pummelled the surprised woman. Helen snaked her arms around the attacker’s waist, and tugged her away from a terrified Janet. Helen caught an elbow in the eye, and reeled backwards. The wild mother was held by another woman, in seconds the cuffs were on. The shocked sergeant led Leanne away.

“You just come and have a chat with me, Mrs Hebbert, we will sort this out,” he said.

Helen caught hold of the hand that was extended towards her, and pulled herself to her feet.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“No problem, DI Lorna Mills at your service. Are you both OK?”

“Sure,” said Helen.

“More surprised than hurt,” replied Janet.

“Well, you are going to have quite a shiner from that elbow. Let’s get a cold compress on that now,” Lorna advised, “follow me.”

Lorna led them through the double doors, and into the female changing room.

“Take off that tunic; we don’t want to get your uniform messed up,” Lorna said.

Leanne sat glaring at the empty space in front of her; she was livid. ‘Just who do they think they are, trying to pull the wool over a mother’s eyes?’ her thoughts boiled. The door swung open, a white haired, ruddy faced man in a grey suit had joined the thin, pale sergeant. Both of them filed in, the stocky one sat with a slight groan. The silent sergeant remained standing, his back poker-straight against the breeze block wall.

“Mrs Hebbert, Leanne, this is most unfortunate,” George Clunes cleared his throat, “allow me to explain.”

“Explain away! This had better be good,” Leanne spat.

Clunes sighed, cast a withering glance at his sergeant, and began his explanation.

               ---------------------------------

Rachael was the first in the crowded bed to awaken; to her immense frustration none of the others would stir, not even one muscle. They were exhausted by the hours of passionate love play. Rachael, on the other hand, was wide awake. Her fretful nature took over, within seconds she was bored, within minutes she rose; Rachael was on the hunt for some excitement.

Rachael pulled her discarded tee-shirt over her head and smoothed it down over her contours. Bare legged, she strode to the hotel door, aggravated by the dull snoring behind her. She stuck her tousled head out of the door and looked to the left and right, ‘All clear’. Rachael chuckled and slipped unnoticed into the hotel corridor. A quick tour of her floor was fruitless, it was deserted. 

Hesitantly, Rachael pressed the button beside the lift doors. By the time the lift had arrived from the ground floor, her impatience had overcome her common sense. ‘Bloody slow thing,’ she thought as she entered the small cubicle. Her finger pressed the button for one floor down, Rachael giggled as the lift doors closed. 

Lissette Poyle fluffed the pillow, and positioned it with loving care smoothing away the creases. She turned and called out to the other chambermaid.

“Nearly done on this floor, Chrissie, how are you doing?”

When no answer came, Lissette walked to the door of the suite.

“Chrissie, are you there?”

No reply came, but Lissette heard a low painful moan from the corridor.

“Chrissie, are you OK, girl?” Lissette asked softly.

Lissette pulled open the door and poked her head into the corridor, her eyes widened in shock. Chrissie stood, lolling against a guest’s door, her legs were splayed crudely open, between them a bare behind bobbed up and down on unknown heel’s. Although Lissette could only see a bulge under Chrissie’s skirt rather than a head, Lissette’s imagination filled in the detail accurately.

“Holy fuck,” Lissette said.

Her words were louder than intended, the fabric covered head ducked down and appeared from between Chrissie’s legs. One look at the secretion smeared lips, the wild hair and the glowing red eyes was enough. Lissette flew from the recently cleaned room, and headed for the fire escape. In an instant, the wild woman had caught up with her, and floored her with an improvised rugby tackle. Lissette struggled as panic flooded through her, she drew back her free foot and drove it at the mad woman.

A second later, Lissette half hobbled, half hopped, down the steel spiral staircase. Tears streaked her make-up.

Rachael sat holding the prim white shoe in her hand.

“Shit! Never mind, I still have you, don’t I?” She muttered as she crawled back towards the reclining chambermaid. Seconds later, the entranced girl began the climb towards her next orgasm.

                   --------------------------

Miles away from the luxurious hotel, another entranced woman shuddered on the verge of her third orgasm. She pushed her slit down hard against the active tongue that speared her lips. Her hands rummaged under the blue serge of a police tunic, busily fingering the spiked nipples. Lorna grunted her passion into Helen’s mouth, gasping from the thrashing, muscular organ that circled her clit.

Janet bucked between Lorna’s wide open legs, her climax fuelled by her own spasming fingers buried deep in her wetness. The extra motion was enough to tip Lorna over the edge and into the delirium of another high. Helen pushed her tongue down into Lorna’s quaking mouth. Helen’s eyes flickered open, and confirmed that a dull redness pulsed though Lorna’s closed eyelids; satisfied with Lorna’s conversion she closed her eyes once more.

The door of the interview room creaked open and a young copper peered in.

“Sergeant, can I have a quick word?”

“God, what now? Back in a minute, George.”

“Well?” asked Jack irritably, as soon as the door was shut behind him.

“Disturbance at the Imperial Hotel, Torbay. Some sort of sex maniac attacking staff, sarge!” 

“What the hell is going on? Get Lorna out to it, she’s trained for rape counselling.”

“I would but I can’t rouse her…”

“You can’t find her, but I know she’s on duty, come on pull your act together, Simms.”

“Oh I know where she is, I just can’t get her to reply.” Simms answered.

The young policeman pointed down the corridor at the changing rooms.

“You are too ruddy polite! Watch and learn,” the sergeant ordered.

“Umm, she’s not alone sarge.”

“I don’t give a shit; an emergency call takes priority over anything!”

So saying, the willowy sergeant flung open the blue door and strode confidently into the changing room. Simms nipped along the corridor and listened intently, head cocked towards the door.

“What the F… GET DRESSED NOW! YOU ARE ON DUTY… Just, get dressed and then get to the Imperial. They have a sex maniac on the premises. Now you should be more than qualified to deal with it, from what I’ve just seen.” The sergeant’s muffled voice was clear enough, even through the closed door.

Simms jumped away from the door as it flew open. Jack Jones, pale at the best of times, emerged, ashen faced.

“Not a word, not one word, Simms. If you ever tell another living soul, I swear I will have you on a charge. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sarge, not a dickie bird, never,” Simms replied.

“Good, excellent, continue as normal, Simms.”

Jack smoothed his uniform down, and then he noticed how enhanced the bulge in his trouser front was. Strangely stiff legged, the sergeant walked back to the interview room.

“I said that would be all, Simms!”

“Yes sarge, sorry sarge.”

Simms turned, and returned to the front counter. He grinned as Lorna and that WPC breezed past him on the way to the hotel disturbance. It wasn’t just the memory of Jack Jones; it was the fact that they had been holding hands. A second later, a shame-faced woman arrived in front of the young policeman.

“I’m here to see Jeff Contadino, if I can?” Janet asked.

“Jeff Contadino, are you sure you are interested in a man?” Simms quipped.

“Yes I am!” Janet replied.

Something in her cold blue-grey eyes told Simms to take it easy on the comedy.

“If you would like to take a seat, I will ask for you, Ma’am,” Simms replied.

Simms shrugged and walked back towards the interview rooms, ‘now Jack’s going to love this,’ he thought.

Janet heard the word even though she was seated at the far end of reception, at the sound of the single word, her face took on a distinctly pink hue.

“WHAT!”

                 ----------------------------

Lalo woke with a start, what was that noise? No, it was not one noise; it was two, a police siren & a fire alarm. Panic broke out in her fuddled mind, ‘Shit, the hotel’s on fire!’

“Mum, Cath, wake up, the hotel’s on fire!” Lalo shouted.

The three of them grabbed some clothes and dashed for the door. The corridor was packed with fearful women in various states of dress. Margit was there, she rose up to her full height and took command.

“Are we all here? Sound off, come on sound off now!” Margit’s voice boomed.

The air filled with names, Margit counted, reviewed and then frowned.

“Rachael’s missing… I have a bad feeling about this. Spread out, find her, find her now!” 

Maldea turned to rush off, but before she could move, Lalo caught her arm. Lalo gazed deeply into Maldea’s eyes; her voice was unusually cold when she spoke.

“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.”

“More Shakespeare, Lalo? What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

“You will see, soon you shall lead us,” Lalo said, flatly.

“What, me lead? What, Lalo?”

“Nothing Mum, I don’t know.”

Margit dashed past them tearing towards the stairs.

“Come on, we have got to find Rachael and get out of here. NOW!”

Shocked into action, Maldea and Lalo followed Margit to the stairs.

Margit threw the fire door wide open and plunged into the stairwell.

The cold scream froze Maldea’s and Lalo’s blood. They pushed the door open desperate to help their leader. Mother and daughter stopped dead, Margit was staggering around on the landing below the first flight of steps. A snapped broom handle protruded through her back, she staggered and kicked over the metal bucket the broom had been propped up in. Soapy water and blood mixed on the shiny concrete landing. Margit slipped, and toppled down the next flight of stairs.

Her body twisted in the air, and she slammed down back first, onto the next landing down. The broom shaft ripped through Margit's sternum, her piercing scream rent the still dusty air. Lalo looked long and hard at Maldea. There could be no doubt, Margit was dead.

                    -----------------------

Chapter 10: The False Heart.

Jeff reclined in his cell, his face, an unconcerned mask. Behind the stillness of his vulpine features his mind tumbled. Just how did he find himself in this situation? He had always tried to be a good father and husband; true, the affair with Janet was an exception to that rule. Lalo had replaced him in Maldea's heart. Then, as Lalo grew, Maldea had started to worry about the possibility of the vampyre coven hunting her down; there were to be no more little Contadino’s, no sons to continue his proud Italian lineage. Jeff had pleaded with Maldea to change her mind, but it was to no avail. 'Why would I bring another child into the world -- just to be vampyre fodder?' her cold words rang around Jeff's tired brain.

From then on, the physical side of their love had retreated further; the love, the trust and the history that bound them was still there, but the passion? No, it was spent. Wearily, Jeff raised a hand to wipe the dampness from his cheeks. He wept for Maldea, for his love and loss, he wept for himself. Here he lay, a marked man -- and all because he chose to run, rather than stand and fight. That had been  a mistake he would never repeat, if he ever had the opportunity.

A rap on the door stirred him from his self-pity.

"Contadino, you have a visitor!"

The door swung inwards and a young policeman stared down at him, his face was unexpectedly sympathetic.

"You had better spruce yourself up a bit; she's worried enough about you already."

A couple of minutes later Jeff stumbled up the corridor behind the young Bobby. He was taken back to the same interview room, but in place of the stern-faced inspector a much more welcome visitor awaited him.

"Janet! Are you a sight for sore eyes." 

Seconds later Jeff's breath whooped out of him as Janet flew into his arms.

"I have been trying to tell them they have this all wrong, that you were with me when they all vanished, but will they listen? They think we are in it together!" The words tumbled from Janet's lips.

"You shouldn't have told them. What if Maldea finds out?" asked Jeff.

"Jeff, love, I don't think we are going to be able to keep this secret any longer," Janet replied.

Jeff sat down heavily, his dark haired head sinking into his hands.

"Jesus, what a mess," he groaned.

Over the next half an hour the lovers talked, Janet tried her best to lift Jeff's spirits, but he was inconsolable. Janet had never seen him like this; he was a broken man.

"That's it, back to the cell for you, Contadino."

Jeff looked up in confusion; the fresh-faced copper had been replaced by the pallid Sergeant. Grumbling, Jeff stood; ungraciously he shuffled off, without as much as a backwards glance to Janet.

"Bye, Jeff! Don't worry. I will find a way to get you out," Janet called.

Jeff merely shrugged and walked on.

Janet sat in shock, she was afraid for Jeff; in this state he could do anything. Finally she left the interview room and made her way back to her car, as she passed the reception desk someone spoke softly.

"Here, take this..."

Janet reached out and grasped the clean white handkerchief; she hadn't even realised that she was crying. She smiled wanly at the youthful officer and slipped out into the car park.

Back at her car she was all fingers and thumbs. Janet rummaged through her handbag searching for her keys. At last she held them in her shaking hand and pressed the small protuberance, the car alarm peeped as the doors unlocked. Janet opened her door, but stopped in the middle of swinging herself into the bucket seat. The reason for her hesitation pressed, sharp edged, into her spine. The woman holding the other end of the knife spoke slowly and clearly.

"Now you are coming for a little ride with me, and we are going to talk very honestly about Mr and Mrs Contadino, right?"

"Right," said Janet.

                     ------------------------

Helen swung her police car through the gates of the Imperial Hotel; sitting beside her Lorna let out a low whistle.

"What the hell is going on here?" Lorna asked.

"Looks like more than an assault on a cleaner, that's for sure," Helen added.

In front of the hotel stood two fire engines, and an ambulance. A crowd of women was gathered around the rear of the ambulance. They were furiously arguing with a couple of harassed paramedics. Further back, on the steps of the hotel a large red-faced man stood with his arms cradled around two weeping maids.

Lorna decamped and walked calmly towards the gathered guests and staff.

"Who's in control here?" Lorna asked loudly.

"Christ knows!" piped up one of the struggling paramedics.

"Me I expect," said the rotund hotel manager.

"So what’s the story?"

"Members of my staff were attacked by a guest; it would appear one of the band members raced to her aid, and fell -- to her death! Now her friends don't want the paramedics to take her away," The manager puffed.

Lorna swung to face the scrum of bodies behind the ambulance.

"What's the issue here?" Lorna shouted.

A small, dark Hispanic woman walked confidently through the crowd and up to the policewoman.

"The problem is that your fine emergency services wish to take our sister from us. It is not our way. I have tried to explain," said Maldea.

"They are only doing their duty, Madam; there are procedures to be followed."

"But can't you make an exception for me?" Maldea asked.

"I'm afraid not, you see in an unexplained death..." Lorna's voice faded.

Dumbly she gazed down at her hand, cradled as it was between Maldea's tanned palms. Gently the older woman squeezed Lorna's fingers.

"Please," Maldea asked.

Lorna's eyes moved up to stare into Maldea's.

"It is our way," said Maldea.

"Paramedics, listen -- leave the body -- I am taking it into police custody," Lorna interjected.

"Fine by me, I have had enough of these weirdo’s. Come on Frank, let’s leave 'em to it!" said the senior Paramedic.

"And the best of British to you; these women are insane!" said Frank, as he lowered his end of the stretcher, "we will need this back you know; hospital property."

"I'll make certain it gets back to you. Look, you go -- I'm sure there are people that do want your help out there," Lorna smiled.

"Yeah, true; thank god the worlds not full of nutters, bye love, take care," shouted the senior paramedic as he started the ambulance, "Josh Newey's the name if you need a reference."

"Thanks Josh, bye" Lorna smiled, her eyes struggling to leave Maldea's for long enough to reassure the driver.

"Good, let’s get Margit back inside," Maldea ordered.

The trance was broken, and Lorna turned back to the manager.

"Is there a room I can use to interview everyone?" she asked.

"Well there is the conference suite, it's not occupied at the moment," the manager answered hesitantly.

"I'm commandeering it, sir, not offering to hire it," Lorna grinned.

"Of course, my pleasure," the manager sighed.

"Oh, and some coffee please, gratis?" Lorna asked.

"Naturally, on the house, my compliments," the manager replied, sourly, "Erm, you aren't going to take that body in there with you, are you?"

"Would you rather I left it in reception?" Lorna asked.

"No, indeed not!" he replied as Lorna walked past him.

The manager stood on the steps shaking his head in sorrow.

"Really!" he muttered.

                    ------------------------

Janet sat on the aged settee; her eyes never left the swinging point of the knife that weaved to and fro in front of her.

"Do you still need that," Janet asked.

"I don't trust you, any of you, you have taken my girl. You and the police, you are all out to get us!" Leanne growled, "It's always been the same, people after us."

Janet wasn't qualified medically but the paranoid tirade shocked her: this woman had lost it. Janet swallowed hard.

"Now I have one of you, and you are going to pay. Pay for it all!"

"Perhaps I can help you find your daughter?" Janet asked.

"How? Cath's dead."

"No, I don't think she is. Jeff was with me when Cath vanished. He couldn't have taken her.”

"With you? Then who took Cath? Where is she?"

"I don't have all the answers, but some – erm -- cult could have taken Cath. Jeff and Maldea upset them when they were in the States."

"A cult, yes that makes sense..." Leanne's eyes hardened, "how do I knows you’re not one of 'em?"

"Because I'm here, I have had Jeff taken from me. Just like Cath was taken from you," Janet thought quickly, "maybe the police and the cult are in it together?"

"Yeah, the police and them, bastards! They took Cath."

"That's right, and if we can get Jeff out he can help us find Cath," Janet added.

Leanne jumped to her feet, and rushed at Janet. Suddenly the blade was at Janet’s breast.

"Youse is tryin' to trick me, think I'm a country bumpkin do you, city girl?"

Janet watched as the blade rose, Leanne's arm reached its apex. Suddenly the arm swung down, Janet tried to close her eyes but she was unable. Terrified and heart beating hard Janet waited to die, she waited for the fatal blow.

It never came, the knife stopped dead; after a second Janet unlocked her eyes from its tip and glance at Leanne's face. It was frozen in time, a cameo of savage hatred glared at her. Leanne stood perfectly still, looking like a waxwork representation of a female ripper. Janet squirmed against the warmth between her legs, she realised she had wet herself. But she had done more than that; she had somehow completely halted her murderous attacker. What was this power she wielded?

Still shaking, Janet stood and walked around her statue-like attacker. The woman was posed in mid-strike; her arms stretched forwards, her legs splayed. Janet became aware of a scent, a delicious warm fragrance. She tracked its source to Leanne, she was emitting the smell of sex -- the lunatic woman was turned on! Janet felt her groin glow with warmth once more; this time it was not urine; it was something more intimate, more passionate.

Janet walked around in front of the frozen female, and knelt crouching before her. Her hands slid up the outsides of Leanne's legs, under the cotton skirt. Janet’s nimble fingers hooked under the sides of Leanne's pants; she gripped and pulled the pants free from Leanne's thighs. Delicious aromas wafted from under Leanne's skirt to tease Janet’s sensitive nose. Janet found her mouth watering; she desired nothing more than to fill her mouth with soft female folds. For the second time in a day she fought the perverted desire, and once again, she failed. Acquiescence was faster this time.

Janet tore the pants from Leanne. She stuffed her questing head under Leanne's skirt, splitting it asunder. Her hungry lips fastened onto the bulging slick skin. Noisily Janet sucked Leanne's folds into her mouth; her tongue slavered across pliant flesh hunting out the precious nodule. Once found, the bud was pummelled and twisted by the thrusts of Janet’s writhing tongue. Leanne gasped, gulping in lungfuls of air lustily. The knife hung limp in her hand, before dropping point down to skewer the settee's stained cushion.

Groaning, Leanne pressed her most intimate flesh against the accommodating mouth. She screamed as a pre-orgasmic shudder tore through her. Janet revelled in the taste of Leanne's ejaculated fluids. Seconds later her diligent mouth was rewarded with a flood of luscious discharge.

Leanne gripped Janet's head and ground herself against her willing lover. She opened her mouth and gasped her ecstasy as she climbed towards a second climax.

The women forgot their differences, and celebrated their newfound relationship. Soon they would search for their lost ones. For now they satisfied themselves with more explorations of the erogenous.

                    ------------------------

Lorna and Helen observed the assembly of women and girls in front of them; they were a striking bunch, if somewhat off-putting. Margit lay on the stretcher in front of the group, her bloodied body covered by a hotel towel. Lorna pulled herself up to her full height and addressed her unusual audience.

"Right.  We have a very serious situation here. I know one of your colleagues has accidentally died, and this is a very sad time for you all, but I have to establish the facts," Lorna took a deep breath, "did anyone in this room assault two of the housemaids?"

A giggle burst manically from Rachael's lips. She immediately hung her head, but her shoulders still heaved with barely suppressed mirth.

Maldea stood.

"There is time for this later; we must tend to Margit, now!"

"Maldea, Margit is dead, she's not going anywhere. I am more concerned at this point with the living," Lorna replied.

"You don't understand, Margit may have somewhere to go…" Maldea paused, "it's our way."

"Your way, your way! Is it your way to sexually assault young women as well? Or to protect those that do?" Lorna scowled.

Lorna's eyes fixed on Rachael.

"Listen to my voice, Lorna, we must tend to Margit, it is our way,"

Lorna swung her head to glare at Maldea.

"I have told you once..." Lorna's voice faded, "it is our way. Yes, it is our way," 

Helen stepped forward.

"Lorna, what are you doing? Procedure states…"

Lorna cut her off mid-sentence.

"I'm the senior officer here! Margit is the priority here -- it is our way."

"Shit, Lorna what's wrong with you?" Helen asked.

"Fuck you, fuck procedure! You aren't even on patch, my word is law here! Now sod off."

Helen saw the insane look in Lorna's eyes and backed off.

"Now let's sort out Margit, Maldea," said Lorna.

"Excellent! Sisters, take Margit outside," Maldea ordered.

Seconds later the French windows were opened, and Margit's body was carried out.  The sisters tended to the body, as tradition required. Margit's clothes were stripped away, and her body laid out straight on the lush lawn.

Lorna stood by Maldea observing the ritual.

"What now?" asked Lorna.

"Wait and watch to see if the Wampyr call her," replied Maldea, "it will be quick if I am right."

Lorna watched the women as they returned to the room; their faces gave away nothing. Helen wandered across to join Lorna.

"Can we start the interviews now?" she asked quietly.

"Soon," whispered Lorna, "very soon."

Helen's eye was drawn to an odd glow outside, her eyes widened when she saw its source. Margit's body glowed with a dull red light, and Helen found her eyes drawn to the body. It seemed so much closer, she could make out every pore and blemish on the corpse. Before her marvelling eyes the gaping wounds closed, and the body took on an intense orange glow. Helen could see every nuance of Margit's form; her eyes drifted up the convex slope of her breasts. They rested on the plump tips--slowly but relentlessly the dead tissue erected. Margit's platform nipples begged to be suckled, Helen's tongue ran over her lips, dampening them as if in preparation.

Lorna's eyes were locked onto an even more intimate part of Margit's anatomy. To her delight the glowing labial lips moistened, and swelled. A small dome appeared through the stretched crinkled skin, Margit's clitoris erected savagely. Lorna gasped as her own followed suit. Although the intensity of the glare almost blinded Lorna, she could not tear her eyes from the lewd display. In an instant the garden was filled with light, when Lorna's eyes recovered, Margit's body was gone.

Lorna jumped at the delicate touch of Helen's hand, her sleek fingers twisted Lorna's right nipple. Lorna's breath rasped over her lips.

"Stimulating, isn't it?" Maldea laughed.

Lalo stood beside her mother, her hand buried deeply between her own legs. Maldea spoke in a reverential tone.

"The Wampyr have taken her, Margit was of true vampyre heart."

Lalo heard the words running through her mind, but this time she kept them to herself. Uttering them would be too dangerous in present company. Her mind raced, what did it mean?

'False face must hide what the false heart doth know.'
'False face must hide what the false heart doth know.'
'False face must hide what the false heart doth know.'

More importantly, what on earth did it have to do with her mother?

                    ------------------------

Chapter eleven: The Instruments of Darkness

Margit's eyes flickered open; her hands immediately flew to her damaged chest. Her desperate fingers confirmed she was uninjured; she also discovered she was naked. Confused and alone in total darkness, she started to panic. But wait, there was a patch of brightness in front of her. The grey patch slowly expanded. Margit could see it clearly now, the clouds; she was travelling towards a group of dense grey clouds. 

Her body was swallowed by the dank, suffocating blanket. She was more certain now, she was flying, not falling, and she found she could control her speed of descent. Margit wanted to get out of the cloud bank, and away from its claustrophobic embrace. She steepened her angle of descent and plummeted downwards.

Soon the cloud cleared, and Margit could see a rural landscape spread out below her. She could not immediately identify it but this was not England, no, below her lay somewhere on mainland Europe. Her body responded to the cool breeze sweeping over it. Her pale skin puckered into goosebumps, and her nipples formed into stiffened peaks. She slowed to gaze at the ploughed fields before her. Then away, at breakneck speeds, now swooping over virgin forest and up, up into the higher lands. She circled an unknown castle, before descending to plunge through the open gates. Her feet touched down on the cobbled courtyard.

Margit looked at the castle in awe, it was clearly centuries old but looked to be in pristine condition. Her eyes scanned the walls of the castle and settled on the carved stone inscription above the studded oaken doors. Margit instantly recognised the symbol; it came from the mirror, one of the symbols on its edge. A feeling of unease settled on her, and then it occurred to her: she wasn't breathing, why wasn't she breathing? Unsteadily, her legs carried her forwards, like a zombie, she staggered towards the fearful door. Clumsily, her legs took her unwilling body on a very unwanted journey.

Her pale hands rose and forced the doors apart. A splendid hallway with a sweeping staircase stood before her. From nowhere, a woman materialised before Margit's incredulous eyes. She was almost indescribable in appearance, her beauty astounding. Margit felt in awe of the spectre, as if she were in the presence of royalty. The noble voice rang out filling the hallway with rich tones.

“Welcome, novice, into the presence of Erzsébet Bathory, council member of the Wampyr high command. Fear for your immortality, my will rules supreme.”

Margit felt her body pushed down into a supplicant pose. 

When she looked up, another woman of equal beauty had appeared.

"This is my consort, Darvulia, she will be your guide to the ways of the Wampyr; heed her well!"

Margit felt her head nod in deference to Darvulia, the consort smiled back, her approval thrilled Margit to her core.

"Before you begin your new life, I have a question for you. I have a decision to make; only you can help me make my mind up. Do you think Maldea is to be trusted?"

Margit spluttered, as a blast of air shot into her empty, still lungs. She started to breathe once again.

"I-I I think so, she was drained by us all, she must be converted," Margit replied.

"Do not think, feel. Let your vampyre emotions guide you in this. They will not fail you; you are of true heart," Erzsébet advised.

Margit concentrated and listened to her impure soul.

"No, she is strong, she is not to be trusted," Margit replied.

"I thought not, I know of her strength, as do others here."

"Others?" 

"You are here to learn, not question. Understand, or feel my wrath!" Erzsébet warned.

Margit closed her eyes and dropped her head, she was, after all, learning.

"Follow me, Margit, for there is much to understand," Darvulia spoke quietly.

Margit walked, now willingly, behind the swaying silk clad form. Her hearing picked up every swish of the gossamer fabric, with the undertone of Darvulia's slow, sensuous heartbeat. Hypnotically allured, she followed Darvulia through a low vaulted passageway.

"Observe the windows; these are the punishment cells, the price of failure is high," whispered Darvulia.

Margit's eyes peered into the darkness of the first window; slowly her eyes accommodated to the dim light. A girl of no more than seventeen summers sat peacefully smiling. Her scowling partner languidly applied a red hot iron first to one raw nipple, and then to the other. The girl's face remained a picture of absolute bliss.

"Her punishment is to endure the agony, but never to be able to express it," Darvulia cooed.

Darvulia moved closer to Margit, wisps of her fine hair fell on to Margit's bare shoulder, every strand triggering a micro-orgasm in the skin cells they caressed. Margit wandered on, fearful of the next perverted tableaux.

Margit could not resist the draw of the spectacle however, and she gazed through the next window. Her eyes fell upon a back of such beauty, such perfection that her senses soared; even the shaved head couldn't detract from the desirability of this woman. The woman gazed long and hard into a darkened full length mirror, but slowly she turned to face Margit. If the back had been perfection, then the front was an inverse reflection, an abomination of sores, pustules and weeping tumours. Margit felt her vomit rise to her throat and the tears pool in her eyes. Then Darvulia spoke.

"Mika, join me, your training is over."

The dishevelled being shambled to the window. The glass dissolved, and unsteadily, the monstrosity stepped over the sill. Margit recoiled in disgust, but as soon as one misshapen foot touched the floor of the passage, a remarkable transformation took place.

The blond hair on Mika's head grew once again, and cascaded down onto her firm shoulders. From these sprung a long smooth neck that led to the most exquisite finely detailed face. The high cheekbones were topped with dark violet eyes, gracing sockets deep with mystery. A short upturned nose was placed above a wide sensual mouth. Mika stirred and her soft hands fell to reveal small plump breasts tipped with honeyed, erect nipples. At her groin was a fine rounded mound, covered with downy blond fluff. The tops of the thighs were sculpted and firm, the gap where they joined revealed a fine pair of full lush labia. Mika smiled wickedly at Margit.

At once, Margit felt her labia and upper thighs dampen with warm rivulets of desire. Trembling she reached a hand forward to touch the shimmering tanned skin.

"No, this is not for you, Margit. This is for you," said Darvulia.

Darvulia extended an elegant arm, and indicated Mika's empty cell.
As much as Margit wished to scream her defiance, the words would not come. As little as she wished to move, her feet ignored her, and with a calmness that betrayed her fear, she stepped over the sill and into the confined space.

"Now you will learn, your training begins. It may take a year or two, or a century or two. But you will learn," Darvulia promised.

With a casual wave of Darvulia's arm, the glass reformed. Margit stumbled towards the mirror. As she reached it, her screams filled the castle.

"Mika, Erzsébet has a task for you, come join us."

Mika and Darvulia walked steadily away from the pitiful cries, further into the castle. Mika paused once, staring long and hard into the cell beside hers. A gorgeous blonde girl sat astride her lover’s face, sweat cascading off her lean body as she desperately ground her groin down onto her lover's bruised lips. Her hands explored the body beneath her with experienced grace, and the skin beneath them trembled as if on the cusp of orgasm. She moved forwards as the fingers of her right hand contracted into a fist, and then she thrust it savagely between the splayed legs of her gasping lover.

"Joyce and Claudie are still here? They were here when I arrived, how long ago was that?" Mika asked.

"15 human years ago, almost 16 now," replied Darvulia.

"A long time, but I still don't see that as training. What I had was punishment. Punishment teaches, that is enjoyment -- how will they learn?" 

"As you are newly emerged, I will forgive you this one question. But be warned, Erzsébet would not. The answer is they have no pleasure, neither of them has had pleasure for 15 long years."

"They haven't come for 15 years," Mika gasped, "excellent!"

Mika grinned lasciviously, and the free Wampyrs walked side-by-side onwards to meet with their dark mistress.

Darvulia entered the bed chamber first; she nodded to her mistress and announced Mika.

"Refreshed from her training, I am sure she will not fail you again, Erzsébet."

Erzsébet shifted little from her reclining pose, as she snarled, "Bring her before me!"

Head bowed, Mika was led into Erzsébet's presence.

"Fallen one, you have a chance to redeem yourself. But be warned; fail me this time and you will go to the pit of banishment. To inspire you in your mission I will give you a taste of the pit," Erzsébet growled.

The room around Mika vanished, and she was immersed in a foul liquid. Against her skin, she could feel the tortured rubbing of disarticulated female organs. A wet vulva, its clitoris savagely erect, slimed its way across her forehead. Pointed nipples butted against her eyes, desperate for some real human contact. But worse than the barrage of hideously frustrated body parts, was the sound; it was more than a sound, a cacophony of tortured female souls, crying for their lost humanity. The voices echoed and bounced around Mika. 

"We must escape my love, we can be free, I know we can. My love, my love, NO!"

“Forget it, Gina, we're dead meat, come here, let’s at least go out in some style!”

“Sonja… Csejthe… Sonja!”

"Play time."  

"Play time."  

"Play time.”

Mika was filled with the vertigo of desire, and lost in the pit of the living dead.

Suddenly it was all gone, and Mika once more stood, cowering before her mistress.

"So now you know the eternity that awaits you, should you fail me again? Your task is to return to the mortal plane. Once there you will join, and lead a group of women known as "Les Bitches". You will protect the follower known as Lalo, for she is our salvation. Lalo is the spawn of one called Maldea," raged Erzsébet.

Mika’s head jerked up, her violet eyes flashed with unconcealed venom.

"Maldea!"

"Yes, the meddlesome one, but do not be tempted to settle old scores. The future of the race depends upon protecting Lalo. That is your task."

"But what if she should interfere again?" asked Mika.

"Then you may personally banish her, my slave," Erzsébet smiled.

"I have one demand, fulfil it now or return me to the pit!" 

"A demand!" Erzsébet thundered, "You dare to demand, fallen one."

The very walls of the castle reverberated with unspent rage.

"I wish Lesley to be my consort. She betrayed me, cursed my manhood and cast me to this fate. I have pleasure to gain in her discomfort, and discomfort she shall truly know," said Mika.

"Ah, the love that is known as hatred, yes, yes, this pleases me. You have been trained well. Lesley and Mika will journey together once more," Erzsébet crooned.

"Darvulia, find and release Lesley, for this is my command!"

               ---------------------------------

Janet and Leanne walked into the Police Station together; they ignored the stares from behind the desk.

"It's all right Sergeant, we aren't going to fight in your station," said Leanne.

"Pleased to hear it ladies, how may I assist you?"

"We would like to speak with Jeff, or rather, I would like to speak with Jeff," Leanne replied.

"You wanted to tear him limb from limb last time you were here, why the change of heart?"

"I have had time to talk to Janet, I'm pretty sure Jeff is innocent, but he may be the only way I can find my Cath. Now you wouldn't begrudge me that would you?" Leanne smiled.

"We are pursuing our own enquiries you know. We will find Cath and the others."

"I just want to help if I can, I know Jeff and the area, he may speak to me," Leanne pleaded.

"Hmm, I should really ask, but I can't see a problem. Just make it quick before the inspectors get back," replied the Sergeant.

Leanne leant across the desk and planted a soft kiss on the Sergeant’s pale cheek.

"Humph, that will be enough of that, Mrs Hebbert," said the Sergeant as his colour shifted a couple of shades towards pink.

"Please take a seat, Miss, while I take Mrs Hebbert through," he mumbled.

Janet sat down besides an odd looking couple and waited. She couldn't help but hear their conversation, it was hardly hushed.

"I tell you I know her, she is Cath's Mum, how come she gets special treatment, and I sit and wait?"

"Look, I'm sure they are doing their best, they are professionals you know," the man replied.

"Sod it, Fizz, you would say that, you all club together!"

"Please calm down, this isn't helping us find Rachael, now is it?"

The distinguished looking man passed a clean handkerchief to the woman, who wiped her eyes and then blew her nose noisily.

Janet wandered back up to the desk, and smiled at the young constable.

"Excuse me, can I use the toilet?"

"Yeah, sure you know the way," he grinned widely.

Janet said nothing; she just winked and strode off down the corridor, wiggling her hips. She walked straight past the changing rooms and up to the rear door. She unbolted the door and carefully pulled the bar back into its closed position. She smiled at her ingenuity and walked back to the reception area, ready to execute part two of the plan. 

"God, I feel hot," Janet exclaimed.

In front of the incredulous police and visitors, Janet started disrobing with a vengeance. By the time her breasts were exposed to all, the young constable was in a panic. He hurtled down the corridor, and burst into the interview room.

"Sarge, Sarge, you aren't going to believe this!"

"Oh gawd, what now..." the sergeant vaulted out of the tubular chair and followed the young copper. The room door was left swinging open.

By the time the sergeant had reach the foyer, the impromptu striptease was over, and the stripper had fled. The policeman looked at the sergeant, the sergeant blinked at the policeman.

"Shit, we have been had!" said the young copper.

At twice the speed the pair had left it, they retuned to the interview room. The empty interview room.

               ---------------------------------

Leanne drove away at break neck speed, leaving Jeff and Janet to embrace each other as best they could, in the back of the jolting Ford Escort. Leanne's eyes flickered backwards and forwards to the rear view mirror, that ruddy Mini seemed to be following her. 

"Take it easy, Leanne, we could lose teeth here," said Janet, breaking from her kiss with Jeff.

"I'd rather lose that black Mini," said Leanne.

Jeff swung around to look through the rear window.

"That's not the police!" said Jeff.

"I don't care who it is. They are following us, and I wish the hell they wouldn't."

The next time Leanne's eyes flashed back to the mirror, the Mini had gone; at last she relaxed and eased her foot off the accelerator. Even so, the Escort screeched around the bend, and then stood on its nose in a precise emergency stop. Jeff cursed loudly as he clambered back on to the rear seat. He glared towards Leanne, as she sat petrified staring at the black Mini blocking the road in front of her. The passenger in the Mini unfurled himself, swung open the door and marched up to Leanne's half open window.

"Sorry about that, are you all right Mrs Hebbert?" 

"Dr Fazakerly? What the hell, who is driving? That maniac almost caused a serious accident!" said Leanne.

"Ah, that would be Jolene, but we had to stop you. We really do need to talk to you all."

"Jolene Savage, since when have you and Jolene been an item?"

"Umm, it's quite recent actually, charming lady though. Look if we can drive up to the Red Bull, will you promise to meet us there, so we can talk about this disappearance thing?"

Leanne turned her head and looked hard at both Janet and Jeff. In unison, they dumbly nodded.

"OK, lead on McDuff, but get that nutter Jolene to drive just this side of insanity, will you,"

"Will do, will do," Dr Fazakerly smiled.

Leanne addressed Jeff as Dr Fazakerly walked back to the Mini.

"You know, my Cath was learning some lines recently, god they seem appropriate now. The instruments of darkness..." Leanne stumbled.

"...tell us truths," Jeff finished, "Shakespeare, I think.

Leanne just nodded and drove on.

               ---------------------------------

Chapter Twelve: The Insane Root

Lorna cursed her luck as she drove along in the slipstream of the black Limo. As if the weirdness of the past couple of days had not been enough, she now had to play chaperone to this band of misfits. However, the chief's instructions had been clear.

'Get them off my patch, and ensure they are safely taken to their next hotel. Watch them and brief the hotel. Oh and no cock ups!'

Lorna glanced across at Helen.

"Are you any happier to be guarding these idiots than I am?" She asked.

"Makes a change for me, I'm not used to this sort of excitement," Helen giggled, “and I get the chance to be close to the delectable
Alison."

"Oh god, you’re not a fan are you? No, surely not! You have got the hots for her, haven't you? Just my luck, a lesbian WPC by my side, this just gets better."

"Hey! You weren't complaining in the changing room when I was munching you." Helen countered.

"Th - that was an aberration, I'm not like that normally," replied Lorna, her condescending tone gone.

"Oh, an aberration, come to think of it, a multiple aberration," Helen laughed.

Lorna felt the colour rise in her cheeks; she fixed her eyes on the road, and her mind on the job. Long sullen minutes passed before she spoke again.

"How far away are we?"

"About another 50 miles to Bath, then the itinerary really begins, sound checks tomorrow morning and the gig at Academy Bristol the day after."

"I only asked how far, please try to act a bit more professional. You sound like an overawed teenager," Lorna snapped.

"Humph, maybe I do. At least I'm not frigid..."

"Can I remind you of who's the senior officer here, WPC Grant."

The temperature in the car seemed to drop below zero. It hovered there for the rest of the frosty journey. As darkness fell, Lorna parked her police car beside the Limo and the battered hospital van. Lorna jumped out and hurried along ensuring that she reached the reception long before the rest of the band and the hangers on. The muted conversation with the receptionist did nothing to raise Lorna's flagging spirits. Dutifully she walked over to the huddle of women and handed out the room keys. Finally only she and Helen remained, Lorna spoke hesitantly.

"A bit inconvenient Helen, but we have to share."

Helen grimaced.

"Ok, but I get to pick which bed I want!" Helen groaned.

"They only had a double, we really have to share," said Lorna.

"Bollocks! Well don't worry, after today your virtue is guaranteed, Lorna."

"Screw you, bitch," said Lorna before storming off.

"Oh, most professional and by the way, not a chance!"

Helen picked up her case and wandered off towards the bedrooms.

"Excuse me, hello," the receptionist called.

"Yes?" asked Helen wearily.

"Sorry I forgot to tell your girlfriend, but one of the band arrived separately, earlier on."

"She's not my girlfriend. Far from it she is just a... colleague," spat Helen.

"Oh, my mistake, I'm sorry. Anyway, Ms Mika, and her consort, a Ms Lesley arrived earlier."

"Ms Mika? Who the hell is she?"

"Erm, she said Maldea would know her, does that help?"

"Not really, don't worry. I will sort it with Lorna. In the morning."

"Have a goodnight."

"Oh without a doubt," Helen smiled grimly.

                 -------------------------------------

"Well, that is a fascinating tale, Jeff. But it is a complete fantasy," Julian chuckled.

"Oh, and you Dr Fazakerly have a far better explanation?" growled Jeff.

"No, but I don't need to resort to fantasy. No wonder the police held you, if you came out with that tripe!"

"Well, if you two are just going to argue, I’m off to powder my nose," said Jolene.

"Sure," grunted Julian.

Janet lent over and whispered to Jeff.

"Carry on with the Doc, I'm going to have a chat with Jolene."

Janet stood and walked away to the rear of the quiet Pub. She left behind a stony silence. Leanne was seated between the two protagonists; she looked from one to the other and shrugged, 'men!' She sighed internally.

"Can I suggest something?" 

"Yeah, sure Leanne, fire away," said Jeff.

"Why don't we just find the girls and your wife first, and worry about the detail later?"

Jeff and Julian eyed each other warily, before an uneasy peace treaty was agreed with a nod. Leanne sighed again out loud this time.

Janet walked into the ladies room just as Jolene flushed the lavatory; seconds later she opened the wooden door and smiled weakly at Janet.

"Hi," said Jolene.

"Hi, Jolene, what are your thoughts on this?"

"I don't know, I mean things have been weird lately, but lesbian vampires? It all sounds a bit Channel 4ish to me..."

"So, nothing odd has happened to you?"

Jolene instantly remembered the lingering desire Rachael's touch had left on her, and her desperate sex sessions with Fizz. The very act of recall coloured her face.

"No, nothing at all," said Jolene through tight lips.

"What about your daughter, Rachael?"

"Rachael was ill! The doctor told me that, she was ill!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you."

Janet put a supportive hand on Jolene's quaking shoulder.

"You didn't, I'm not, and it's just worry about Rachael."

Jolene felt calmed by Janet's affection, her hand warm and comforting on her skin. The slow massage reassured her. She stopped shaking and looked into Janet's eyes. The blue-grey orbs were full of concern and understanding Jolene cleared her throat.

"W-what about you, has anything bad happened to you?"

"I don't know if I would call it bad, but odd things have happened, sexual ones," Janet confessed quietly.

"Sexual..."

"Yes, I have never been attracted to my own sex before but now..." Janet's voice petered out.

Her hand slipped from Jolene's shoulder, crept across the smooth cotton Tee-shirt and stopped when it reached the swell of a well formed breast.

"'Ere, you coming onto me, 'cause I'm not interested. I like men, you understand, men," Jolene protested.

"So did I."

Janet's nimble fingers located the unerect bud of Jolene's left nipple, gently she twisted and released it. The tip hardened and rose up to nudge her fingertips once more. Janet heard a small sound catch in Jolene's throat.

"It gets quite addictive, once you try it Jolene." 

"Well I am not going to get addicted, 'cause I'm not that sort!"

Jolene shook Janet's hand free and strode out of the toilet, without a backwards glance Janet sighed in frustration, and slid the hand that had been cupping Jolene's precious fruit under the waistband of her jeans. 

Her fingers nipped the swollen outer lips, and trapped her bulbous clit. Slowly she masturbated it, as if it were Jeff's straining organ. It felt so large. She could imagine it was a miniature cock. The outrageous image was enough to send her into a trembling climax. Eventually, Janet freed her sticky digits and brought them up to her twitching lips. Carefully and deliberately she cleaned away her lubrication. Janet finally checked her appearance in the mirror. She smiled a wicked smile at her reflection, flicked her blonde streaked mane of hair and walked back into the pub.

During the short walk back to the table, Janet became aware of a fantastic scent. A squirt of juices dampened her saturated panties a little more, ‘what was this pheromone?’, she wondered. Then it clicked, it was the smell of a woman, an excited woman. The closer she got to the seated group, the stronger the smell became; it was smelt delicious and spoke of great hunger. To her surprise Janet found its source was Jolene. She smiled to herself, 'I'm not that sort, indeed, well you are now,' thought Janet, 'maybe we all are.'

"Well?" she asked.

There was a moments silence before Julian broke it.

"We are putting our differences aside and concentrating on a rescue attempt."

Jolene squirmed uncomfortably beside the doctor, she reached over and grasped his hand for comfort. But her eyes, her dark limpid eyes never left Janet's face. Jolene squirmed once again and ran her fingers though her dark cropped hair as she snuggled into Julian's side. Janet wrinkled her nose slightly, appreciating the fresh burst of scent from Jolene's groin.

"So how do we do that?" Janet asked.

"Les Bitches have a concert, day after tomorrow, in Bristol. Originally Lalo was desperate to go, so I think that's where they are all going to be. As will we," Jeff smiled grimly, "and that's the showdown."

"Now that sounds just like my kind of fun," replied Janet with a broad grin.

                    ------------------------------

Lorna woke to the sound of her mobile phones alarm. Blearily she blinked and read the flashing display. 05:30, her face fell 'Shit, why didn't I reset it?' she wondered. She cast a glance around the dimly lit room. Her eyes finally came to rest on Helen, who slumbered peacefully beside her. A wave of guilt washed over Lorna, she had been a bit hard on her yesterday. Still she could do without the distraction of a gay colleague, 'God, I will be glad when this crap ends,' she thought bitterly. 

Helen rolled over onto her back and exposed her left breast to the chill air of the bedroom. Even in the dim light the whiteness of the succulent globe made it obvious. Lorna was jealous of Helen's pale skin, 'just one of the advantages of being a redhead, I suppose,' she thought idly. As she watched, the puckered nipple reacted to the cold air and stiffened, Lorna knew she could just reach out and touch it, Helen wouldn't object.

A second later, Lorna was out of the bed and pacing around the room. She fought against her desire, she knew, she just knew, this was a foreign feeling to her. Helen grumbled softly and threw the duvet away from her, exposing smooth pale skin and just the fringe of her fiery pubic bush. Lorna stopped dead. She swallowed hard and then crept toward her sleeping colleague. The fingers of her left hand smoothed over a fecund abdomen and stole down grazing the downy fur of Helen's mound. Helen sighed and slid her duvet covered legs further apart. Lorna reacted as if she had been stung; she snatched away her hand and cradled it in the other. Her cheeks swam with wetness. She gave a stifled sniffle, turned and ran for the door. Once outside, she rested her pyjama covered spine against the solid oak door and shook her head in disbelief. Her head was full of conflicting thoughts. She needed some space, some air. Lorna propelled herself away from the room and dashed along the hotel corridor. She rushed around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks.

Right there, right in front of her in the reception area of the reputed Bath Spa Hotel, was the receptionist. Now that wasn't unusual but the fact that she was on her hands and knees, with her head buried between the wide splayed thighs of a beautiful female guest, was a little unexpected. The pretty blonde was toying with the receptionist’s bun, loosening it before freeing it to cascade onto her twitching abdomen.

"Lesley, it is time!" the woman ordered.

Lorna saw a movement from the far side of reception; a figure unfurled itself, and stalked cat-like towards her mistress. What she saw in the haunted eyes of the cat woman brought tears to her eyes for a second time. They were deep and immensely intelligent, but no will shone in them. They were as empty and desolate as a deserted warehouse. The sad figure was totally sleek, other than a broad protuberance that bobbed between her thighs. The savage dildo swung threateningly.

The creature skulked towards the receptionist, its blank stare never leaving Lorna. Skilfully it positioned itself behind the receptionist, and aimed its protruding stalk at the girls winking anus. Lorna's eyes widened, 'that will rip her apart' she thought, 'I really should stop watching this,' but she was spellbound. The hairless cat woman thrust savagely, and the whole of the glistening dildo slid in, plumbing the depths of the accommodating bowel. The receptionist didn't even miss a beat in the staccato tattoo she performed on her guest’s stubby clitoris.

The cat woman pursed her lips salaciously and blew a kiss towards Lorna. Panicking, Lorna turned away, pulling her hand out of her gaping pyjama fly, and flew away from the debauchery and back to the comfort of her room.

Helen was dreaming, she lay on a silken dais in a sumptuous room. It was a room straight from the fairy tales her mother used to read to her at bedtime. As she lay exposed, open and wet, she watched a bat circle the room. Gradually its flight spiralled in towards her; finally it landed on her abdomen. 

The beady intelligent eyes fixed on Helen and the small creature ran a red tongue over the edge of its pointy small teeth. It then turned and scurried down her body, teasing her pubic hair with its sharp claws as it homed in on its prey. Helen bucked against the pain its sharp teeth extracted from her bobbing clitoris, before the pleasure came, raining continual orgasms in its wake.

She woke, and in a panic, her hand flew protectively to her groin, where they met Lorna's bobbing head. Lust replaced panic as Helen ground her pubis into Lorna's wide open mouth.

"But I thought..." 

"Shut up, and enjoy!" came the muffled response.

'Well' thought Helen, 'an order is an order.' She relaxed as her first orgasm washed over her.

Out in the reception area no one relaxed; Lesley reached forward and wound the receptionist’s flowing hair around her fist, savagely she pulled the girl's head away from Mika's crotch, leaving Mika's erect clitoris to stab at the girl’s contorted face. She opened her eyes and feasted upon an organ that was as large as any cock she had ever seen. 

Mika wriggled down under the bucking girl and drove her clitoral meat deep into the girl's quivering chasm. Mika's mighty clitoris ground against a small but stiffer bud and the young woman exploded into a long noisy climax. She slammed her buttocks back against the cruelly pleasurable dual assault and groaned her passion.

"Now slave repeat after me," Mika ordered, "Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root, That takes the reason prisoner?"

The girl grunted a guttural response, as was befitting a new slut.

"Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root, That takes the reason prisoner?"

Her scream rent the air.

                --------------------------------- 

Chapter Thirteen: To Throw Away the Dearest Thing

Julian cleared his desk and organised his cover, getting a locum at short notice was always a hassle. He sat at his desk and considered what was to come. He had to admit, at least to himself, that this was only because of Jolene. Even if Rachael was his patient, and Virginia a respected colleague, he wouldn't have risked his career on a jaunt like this. But Jolene, that was different, he loved her. She was so refreshing and so damn sexy, she wore him out. She took years off him, and made him realise that he had become old and staid before his time.

He shook his head in amazement and stood up, here he was, a pillar of the community and he was about to give an escaped prisoner a lift to a pop concert. It beggared belief, it really did.

Jolene hovered by the lace curtains, waiting for a glimpse of Julian's Ford Galaxy. The curtains fell back and she raced into her hallway.

"He's here guys, Fizz has arrived!" she shouted.

Upstairs, Jeff turned and groaned.

"Fuckin' yippee, the doc's arrived."

"Come on Jeff, cheer up, I don't want to listen to you two bicker all the way to Bristol," Janet warned.

Jeff shrugged and left the bedroom. Janet turned towards Leanne and rolled her eyes with a meaningful look.

"Just bloody big kids they are," Leanne added.

Before long they were all loaded up, and the motley crew headed off. Julian pointed the car north, and the adventure began.

"So where are we staying, Jo?" Fizz asked.

"Hang on," Jolene rummaged through her bag, “here we are, the Westbourne Hotel Clifton. Jeff booked it on the internet."

"Oh Jeff booked it, let's hope it exists then, it could be a figment of his imagination," Fizz laughed.

"Oh it exists Fizz, look I have a picture," Jolene waved the print-out around.

"Fuck you Fizzle, the hotel's fine. Let's hope you can get us there in one piece," snarled Jeff.

"Dr Fazakerly to you, Contadino."

"Please, Fizz, Jeff, leave it, we have a long journey," Janet groaned.

Leanne and Jolene immediately backed up Janet's plea. Silence enveloped the car. Finally Jeff spoke up.

"I'm sorry Fizz, let's bury the hatchet, this is about the kids, not us."

"OK,” Fizz agreed, “let's just hope we can find them."

"Amen to that," said Jeff.

                 -------------------------------

At the same time, a small convoy prepared to leave the Bath Spa Hotel for the short journey to Bristols' Frogmore Street. Maldea rallied the troops, and soon she stood central to a cluster of women.

"OK, it looks as if we are all here, but just in case, let's just sound off!"

"Maldea", "Lalo", "Cath", "Rachael", "Pearl", "Virginia", "Ellie", "Pam", "Anna", "Sylvie", "Macy", "Ali", "Jolene" "and me, Manda!"

"Good, fourteen of us plus our friendly cops Helen and Lorna, OK let's hit the road ladies, rock and roll waits for no one!" Shouted Maldea.

"Not even us?" Came a mocking voice from the other side of reception.

Thirty two pairs of curious eyes scanned towards the speaker. The willowy blonde stood with her entourage of slaves. Her appearance was stunning; she wore a leather cat suit, all black, and the front was spilt to the waist. Her jutting breasts sat high on a slim ribcage that swept up to a long elegant neck. Cascading blonde frizzy hair framed a face that was savage in its chiselled beauty. A playful, but deeply sensuous smile widened as it saw both recognition and fear in Maldea's eyes.

Maldea fell instantly to one knee, and indicated for the others to follow suit.

"Mika, Wampyr mistress, you honour us with your presence," said Maldea, as her eyes lowered to the floor.

"Indeed I do, and you are sensible enough not to ask why," Mika laughed.

"My consort's, Lesley, my feline beauty, she's my oldest and most reviled lover. This slut is Rochelle, my newest and most debased slave," Mika drew in her breath, "but I am here on a mission, I have come to replace Margit, and lead "Les Bitches"..."

"No, my mother leads us, not you." 

"Ah, Lalo, so you have not only inherited your mother's looks, but her foolish courage. I shall enjoy breaking you in..." Mika winked at the young woman, “Now tell her Maldea!"

Tears shone in Maldea's dark eyes as she turned to address her daughter.

"It will be as Mika commands, for she is Wampyr."

"Good, I also have a brand new song for our first UK appearance, so we better hurry to rehearsal," replied Mika.

Maldea rose, and her followers copied her, ensuring they nodded their respect to both Mika and her outlandish consorts. They parted to allow the three women lead them out to the car park. Respectful and silent, they followed the privileged trio.

Lorna hung back and whispered to Helen.

"What the fuck is a Wampyr?"

"I have no idea, but I get the impression you don't cross 'em," said Helen.

Lorna nodded her agreement silently as she walked with Helen.

'Just what the hell's going on here?' she wondered.

Helen just wondered how to get Mika to notice her; amongst this bevy of beauties, it would not be easy.

                  ----------------------------------

Jim Mason whistled as he wheeled the boom box from the back of the Lorry. 

"So who are this lot, Jim, you’re old enough to know 'em," asked a skinny teenager who stood nearby.

"You’re just a cheeky git Pete. It'll get you in trouble one day," Jim whistled low "these are the hottest chicks you'll ever see, but untouchable by the likes of us. Strict lezzies this lot."

"Oh, what like Tatu?" Pete asked.

"Shit no, this is the real deal, no pretence here. So that little pinkie of yours may get a stiffy, but it ain't goin' to get anything else," Jim chuckled.

"I have my ways, old man. I have my ways," Pete grinned.

"Ha! This lot will slice it off, and shove it where the sun don't shine, Pete. That they will."

The stage door slammed behind Jim, just as Pete raised two disrespectful fingers.

Pete swung around and was just about to scurry up the steps into the van, when a black limo pulled up. He slowed his stride as his eyes strained for a sight of the notorious band. As he gazed, a black window glided down and a vision of loveliness pulled a half smoked joint from her lips. 

She looked his way, and then with an elegant flick of her wrist, threw her reefer past him and into the lorry’s interior. It bounced once and settled on a pile of packaging, which ignited and flared up immediately. Even as Pete danced on the flames, crushing out their brief life he knew, he knew he had to have a slice of that. His being told him so, his need told him so, but most of all his hard-on pressing into his stomach told him so.

"Lesbians!" he muttered to no-one in particular, "we will see."

The sound check was almost complete when Mika walked onto the stage.

“This is a bit restrictive, are all stages in this chicken shit of a country this small?” she asked rhetorically.

Mika stalked out to the centre of the stage.

“Hey love, if you are going to sing, I need to mike you up,” a sound engineer yelled.

“I am not, nor will I ever be, your love, pencil dick! Now take that toy and shove it up your ass, I am a singer!”

The engineer was just about to reply when Mika burst into song.
The very first note filled the auditorium with a full raucous rock sound.

“Girl you can feel it in your blood,
You can feel it in your bone,
Tonight’s gonna be hot,
An’ you won’t be alone.

My lips will make you thirst,
And I will do my worst,
Coz before the night is done,
Girl you are gonna comeeeee.

You will wanna laze,
Yeah, you’ll be in a haze,
So welcome my lover,
To the vampire dazeee,
Yeah, the vampire dazeee, dazeeeee!

Mika hit the top ‘C’ perfectly, and held it beyond the point of exhaustion. She span on her heel and beamed at the rest of the band.

“Well what do you think, that’s our new song, our anthem!”

A chorus of approval and whoops confirmed Mika’s acceptance as the new front of Les Bitches.

The engineer turned to a colleague.

“Well she sure is a bitch, but that girl can sing, a-m-a-z-i-n-g!”
Then he noticed the dark stain on his colleague’s jeans.

“Christ Joe, you are one sick man…”

Maldea took this opportunity to sidle up to Lalo whilst attention was elsewhere; she took her hand and pulled her into the smaller of the two dressing rooms.

“Listen, you stay well away from Mika, she is trouble. Do you understand me? She will strip you of your very soul,” Maldea warned.

“But you said she was Wampyr, doesn’t that mean…”

“It means nothing but pain where Mika is involved, she, rather he is insane with hatred!”

“He!” 

“It’s too long a story to tell you now. But you see that cat thing, the bald girl over there? Well, she was his girlfriend, and that is what loving Mike has done for her. She was pretty once, she was human.”

“Mike?”

“Mike, Mika, its all the same, just keep away, OK, for me, Lalo, just for me.”

Maldea froze as a cool hand clamped on her shoulder.

“Oh how cute, a mother and daughter bonding session,” said Mika in a cold voice, “I so must bond with you too at some time, Lalo, sometime real soon.”

Just as silently as she appeared, Mika flitted away, leaving Maldea trembling in front of her shocked daughter. Maldea motioned with a flick of her head that they should join the others. Silently Lalo complied.

                   --------------------------

The hotel was small, but comfortable. Jeff finally cheered up a little, he felt sure that Maldea and Lalo were close. He even felt more certain that they would soon all be reunited.

Janet walked into the room, Jeff glanced towards her. Instantly the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise. He was transfixed by her; she seemed to glide in slow motion. Her breasts bounced enticingly, emphasising their fullness, coils of hanging hair, damp from the shower caressed her nipple to a deliciously full erection. 

Jeff felt his erection unfurl in his trousers, but more strongly he felt something else, deja vue. He remembered this feeling; he had had it years ago as a young man in the streets of New York. He had felt this the very first time he laid eyes on Maldea. His orgasm came from nowhere, it drained him of fluids and energy, and he slumped side-wards onto the hotel bed. When he came to, Janet was gone, as were all her clothes. There could be no doubt now, it was all happening again.

As Janet made her way along the street, she was amused by the antics of the passers-by. Some just gaped at her open mouthed; others gave into their desire and openly masturbated as soon as they laid their eyes upon her. The cutest one was a youngish girl; she just simply stopped French kissing her boyfriend. Stood up and walked a few paces from the park bench, before dropping to her knees with her legs spread wide. 

Her desperate hands shredded her Tee-shirt and exposed her young pert and as yet untanned breasts to the world. Her rampant hands flew down, and plundered the wetness hiding under her plaid skirt. Seconds later, she was shrouded in her boyfriend’s jacket, who despite the encumbrance of his full erection, had managed to reach her and preserve whatever modesty she had left.

Janet just smiled demurely and walked on, ignoring the mayhem as best she could. It was just as well the venue was less than a mile from the hotel. Bristol shuddered into a masturbatory hiatus, but it was short lived and only local in effect. Of course, it would not be short lived for the women who had been touched, no for them, it would be life changing! They would soon find that only their own fingers and the fingers of other women could satisfy their new sexual passion.

Surreptitiously, Janet slid into Frogmore Street and along the side of the Carling Academy, around to the stage door. The slim blonde girl that met her there was striking, she was several inches shorter than Janet; but every part of her compact body was perfect. From the slim bare midriff to her pert small breasts, the girl was a pure pedigree. When she spoke, she spoke with a soft American edged German accent.

"I am Anna, guard what I am about to give you with your life, for it is most precious. Show it to no one. Most importantly, bring it with you to the gig tomorrow night and make sure you get in the balcony. We need you in the balcony."

"I don't have any tickets yet; can I be sure of getting balcony tickets?" Janet asked.

"Just have this with you, you won't need tickets," Anna pressed a small heavy object into Janet's trembling hand; it was sheathed in velvet. "Remember this too, it will not make sense now, but it will tomorrow, to both you and to Jeff. To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As ’t were a careless trifle. Remember that well, my love. Good luck, Janet."

Anna stood on tiptoe, and pressed her damp lips against Janet's. Janet shuddered, as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her frame. When she opened her eyes, Anna was gone. Calmly Janet slid her hand under her skirt and slid down her soaked knickers. With a slight flourish, she flung them into a waste bin by the stage door. Unhindered by the soggy material, Janet quickly strode away.

Pete poked his head out of the shadows at the side pf the building. He shuddered as his hands completed the last couple of long strokes on his straining shaft. Semen splattered the wall and Pete's tattered jeans.

He leant back against the brickwork and sighed.

"Wicked!"

                ---------------------------------

Chapter Fourteen: The Milk of Human Kindness

As she wandered aimlessly along, Janet realised that the people around her were acting normally and ignoring her. Whatever the power was that she once wielded, it had gone. She mourned its loss and desperately wanted it back. Pausing, she raised the small but heavy velvet encased object and inspected it carefully. 'Maybe this?' She thought. Her fingers twitched addict-like at the silken binding. The moment passed and she thought better of it. She slipped the object back into her handbag.

Janet looked up and took in her surroundings. Her heart sank. She was lost. None of this looked familiar. She called out to a passing stranger.

"Excuse me, where am I?"

"Baldwin Street, love, in the Old City..."

Before she could glean anything else, he had melted away into the darkening evening. 'Baldwin Street? Was that near to the hotel?' She wondered and then panic really kicked in. Janet realised she had no idea of the name of the street the hotel was in. Her mind raced desperately as she tried to remember the hotel’s name. 'West... something, Westbrooke?' tears welled up. Janet had never felt so alone, she was in a strange city and at nightfall, room-less. If she could only find her way back to the Academy, then maybe, just maybe, she could retrace her steps.

She wandered on a little further looking for locals to ask, but it was that time of day, rush hour had broken. Those people who didn't think she was canvassing or begging just ignored her and continued on their headlong dash home. Finally she spied a pub and decided to have a drink and ask the way back from there.

Janet made herself comfortable at the bar, and waited for the staff to finish serving others.

"Hi welcome to Fusion, I'm Lynne, what can I get you?"

"Vodka and lemonade please, and make it a large one," replied Janet.

"Rough day then? Still you are at Fusion now, time to kick back and relax," Lynne smiled.

Janet sighed, she did calm down, the pub was conducive to relaxation.

"Well, you don't sound too happy?" the question floated down the bar.

Looking up, Janet's eyes followed the words; finally meeting a steady pair of dark brown one's that sparkled with intelligence.

"I'm lost, and even if I can get back, I will still be lost," said Janet.

"Hmm, do you always speak in riddles? I don't understand what you are saying, but I do recognise pain when I see it."

"Umm, pain yes, but so much pleasure, more than I need," Janet replied.

"Oh, well maybe I could help you share some of that," the woman laughed, "I'm Bobbi, and I am a good listener."

Janet nodded and smiled; Bobbi moved along the bar and sat down beside her. Within minutes they were chatting like old friends, and Janet even laughed once or twice. Bobbi ordered another round of drinks and wrapped a protective arm around Janet's shoulders. A younger girl walked up to the bar.

"Oh hi, Bobbi. Have we found another stray? Watch out girl, you will be supping from the furry cup before you know it!" 

"Furry cup?" queried Janet, looking at Bobbi.

"Take no notice; this is a gay bar, Janet. But this is not a come on, you are quite safe."

"It's not my safety I am concerned about," said Janet.

"More riddles, come on let's drink up, the night is young."

             ------------------------------

Meanwhile, back at the Academy, Anna approached Mika cautiously. The Wampyr sat gazing into a brightly lit mirror. Lesley lay coiled at her feet, snoozing, and yet still gently caressing Mika's calf muscles. The other consort was deeply engaged in abusing her body; Rochelle sat cross legged on the floor, lurching to and fro as her fist pummelled in and out of her elastic duct. Mika spoke first.

"Fifteen long years, and still I can't get used to my appearance."

"But you are perfect, beautiful," said Anna.

"Quite, but let's just say that I am not all I once was..." a single tear ran down Mika's cheek, "you have news?"

"Yes, I have passed on the fragment, your will is done."

"Good, soon we can dispense with our disguise and concentrate on Erzsébet's task. Soon we shall have an army of sisters to hide among," Mika paused as her face brightened, "to train."

Anna's attention was stolen by a loud groan from Rochelle. The seated girl had forced her second fist deep into her anus. She rocked backwards and forwards, in a cruel parody of desire. Anna's eyes widened, her forehead crinkled.

"How can she do that, without splitting herself open?" 

"Oh, Rochelle can do many tricks, I have modified her. The changes are more, subtle, shall we say than Lesley's," Mika grinned. "Why does it interest you?"

"It's just gross really."

"I could always make a few little improvements to you," Mika purred, “even with your petite frame, I could make you very, accommodating."

"No, I am just fine, thank you for your interest in me, Mika. I am flattered."

Anna turned on her heel, and dashed from the dressing room.
Mika's cruel laughter and Rochelle's mounting cries followed her, taunting her and whispering wickedly of terrifying pleasures to come.

                --------------------------------

Janet made herself comfortable in the small flat.

"This really is very nice of you, Bobbi," Janet called out towards the kitchenette. 

"Sorry, I missed that..." Bobbi said, before popping her head around the edge of the door frame.

"I was thanking you for putting me up overnight; you really are a star."

"Think nothing of it; I am just sorry the place isn't cleaner. I don't often have guests."

Janet smiled as she snuggled down into the soft settee. Her hand delved into her handbag and pulled out the small weighty package. Janet spun it lightly between her fingers, examining every tactile detail. She frowned slightly as she tried to decipher the odd shape.

"What's that?" asked Bobbi, as she passed Janet a large vodka and lemonade.

"Hmmm? Oh sorry I don't know, and it's probably better that I don't," sighed Janet as she went to drop the object back in her handbag.

Bobbi caught her wrist softly.

"Oh no, not more riddles! let me see," demanded Bobbi.

Janet released the package into Bobbi's other hand; immediately she regretted it.

"No! Give it back. Bobbi, it is too dangerous!" Janet pleaded.

Heedless to Janet’s cry, Bobbi proceeded to unwrap the object from its soft bindings. In seconds, a fragment of an ancient artefact emerged. She walked towards the centre of the room to inspect it under the light.

"Well, no mystery here, Janet. I mean it looks old, but it's just a fragment of a mirror frame. Ouch! Shit, it's still sharp though."

Bobbi dropped the fragment and thrust her bloodied finger into her mouth, sucking it vigorously. In a second, Janet was at her side; gently she plucked at Bobbi's hand and extracted the injured digit. She inspected it closely, frowning at the jagged cut.

"We need to clean that up, come on," ordered Janet.

Commandingly, Janet ushered Bobbi into the kitchenette and over to the cluttered sink. She turned the tap on to give a steady cold stream of water and plunged Bobbi's finger into the icy flow.

"Just hold it there, now where are your plasters?"

Bobbi nodded towards the small cupboard on the far wall. Janet rummaged through the chaos inside it.

"Are you certain?" Janet asked.

"Yup, at the back, sorry I'm not the tidiest girl you will find," answered Bobbi.

So absorbed was each woman in their task that neither of them noticed the dull red glow emanating from the living room. At the centre of the glow sat the fragment of mirror. On its dull surface Bobbi's blood sizzled as it boiled away. As the last wisp of blood evaporated from the surface, it suddenly cleared regaining its fine reflective sheen. The mirror quaked violently and emitted a flash of red light before fading to its original state.

"What the hell was that?" Asked Janet.

"It'll just be a passing police car, it's getting towards that time of night again; St. Paul's has a bit of a reputation for trouble."

Janet returned with a cleanish piece of cotton wool and a curled Elastoplast. Carefully she dabbed the dampness and blood away from Bobbi's finger, before wrapping the plaster securely around the wound. Inspecting her handiwork she finally smiled.

"All done!"

"Thanks," said Bobbi, sighing with relief.

Bobbi lent forwards and placed a soft kiss on Janet's lips. Janet backed away as if stung, a look of bemusement on her face.

"I, I didn't mean anything," apologised Bobbi.

"It's not you, it's me. Look I might turn in, if it's all the same to you."

"Sure, I understand, will you be OK on the settee? I'll get you a blanket."

"Thanks Bobbi, you are a sweetheart," said Janet.

Minutes later, Bobbi turned out the living room light and stood silhouetted in the doorframe of her bedroom.

"Night Janet, sleep tight..."

"Mmm, night," Janet mumbled from below the thick blanket.

Bobbi sighed quietly and disrobed sullenly as she made her way towards her bed, alone once again. Naked and frustrated she sprawled out, thoughtlessly her fingers probed between her open legs. Lazily they played with the wet skin. Her eyes wide open, she stared at the discoloured ceiling, and fat tears rolled down her hollow cheeks.

“Fuck it!” She mouthed silently.

Her fingers stopped their exploration, and Bobbi rolled onto her side, she hugged the pillow with all her might.

Under the blanket, Janet drifted on the very edge of sleep, and then something snapped her back into full awareness. She sniffed the air, and popped her head out from under her blanket to sense the aroma better. Whatever it was, it was mind numbingly sexy. Janet slid off the settee, and walked like a sleepwalker towards the closed door of Bobbi’s bedroom. Behind her on the carpet, the small piece of mirror glowed softly. Janet paused momentarily at the door before opening it and slipping inside. The door closed softly behind her.

                 -------------------------------

A large orange sun peeked above the skyline, soaking the hills surrounding Bristol with a soft morning light. The early morning mist boiled off slowly, and the rays started their work, warming the high-rises and churches, the shopping centres and University residences, the cars and early morning commuters. Pete whistled to himself as he cycled across the churchyard, he felt full of life this morning; something was going to happen today, he was sure of it.

Pete cycled a few yards further when it hit him, or rather, he hit it. One minute he was riding along in normality, and the next he was lost in a sea of desire. His orgasm burst from nowhere, he reeled from the shock of it, and crashed from his speeding bike to the ground. Pete struggled up, pushed his helmet back up from his forehead, and groggily gazed around. All he could see was mayhem; a mother knelt behind her forgotten pushchair and thrashed at her convulsing body with desperate hands. In front of her, a toddler squirmed frantically fighting against the pushchair straps, her young eyes full of wonder. A strong convulsion pulsed through Pete, and then it was gone, all was normal again. 

The young mother stood up and ran unevenly towards her little one. She pulled her daughters hands from her plundered lap, and then paused, straightening her hair. Her eyes caught Pete's for a second, recognised the emotion, and shot away fearfully. Pete stood unsteadily and gazed down at his bike. The front wheel formed an elegant curve against the headstone it had collided with. Pete cursed in a short burst of obscene language.

"What the fuck happened then?" Pete asked.

"I don't know, and I don't want to think about it. Leave us alone," the woman chattered.

Pete shook his head slowly and cursed his luck, his enthusiasm for the day broken.

Janet gazed down on the drama unfolding in the churchyard before sweeping the curtains fully closed once more. She smiled an odd little smile and returned her attention to Bobbi.

"How are you this morning, love? Recovered?"

Bobbi grinned.

"Nearly, shit, I have never had a night like that before," she answered.

"Don't worry; there will be plenty more to come, starting this evening at the gig!"

Bobbi walked towards Janet, but then she paused and bent low to retrieve the dull fragment of mirror. She shuddered as an involuntary climax shivered through her.

"I expect you will be needing this, let me wrap it for you."

"Anything to let you keep your greedy hands on it a little longer then?" Janet laughed, "Well let me give you something better. Let me introduce you to the wonder of the mirror, and the seductiveness of its grace, its gift."

With her hands extended before her, Janet walked towards Bobbi until she almost touched her swollen breasts. Janet tensioned as she felt the luxurious sensation of her palms opening. Bobbi gasped, her mouth hung open in a heady mix of fear and lust. She watched silently, fascinated as the miniature mouths in the centres of Janet's hands drooled in anticipation. 

Suddenly it was done; the sharp serrated teeth located Bobbi's proud nipples, and injected their aphrodisiacal anaesthetic. Bobbi's thighs ran with flowing lubrication as her overwhelmed vulva pumped desperately. Janet's eyes glowed a dull red; which rapidly progressed to crimson as Bobbi's rich blood flowed into her circulation. Her first conversion drove her from climax to climax, in a flurry of perverted desire she would never forget. Janet willing joined the ranks of the vampyre coven.

The moment seemed to last forever, but eventually Janet felt Bobbi slump and slide to the floor. Her burning red eyes surveyed her first conquest; smoothly she tipped back her head, pursed her lips and howled for joy.

Her head fell forward, slumping onto her bare shoulders, and unthought-of words passed her wet lips.

“Yet I do fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.” 

Janet’s head rose, and her feral eyes twinkled with evil desire. She laughed a long harsh laugh of inhuman intensity.

                  --------------------------

Chapter Fifteen: Golden opinions

“Well I think it’s odd,” said the leather clad girl.

“Maybe they were fans, y’know way back when,” replied her cloned friend.

“What? ‘im, he looks like a bank manager!”

“More like a merchant banker!” Joked Pete, as he lent forward between the girls.

“Piss off, pizza-face,” said the taller of the two girl’s.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Pete quietly.

He had to admit though they had a point, what was a twitchy Mafia Don and a Banker doing bringing their ancient girlfriends to this gig? Oldies and crusties, he would never understand them, and sure as hell he would never get like that, saddo’s.

“I feel so out of place,” sighed Fizz, glancing around apprehensively.

“To hell with that, can you see Janet anywhere?” snapped Jeff.

“No, I don’t… strange how people close to you can vanish, isn’t it?”

Leanne raised her hand and gently intercepted Jeff’s wrist.

“We want to keep a low profile, remember?” 

A look, full of silent critique passed between Jolene and Leanne. Jeff and Fizz exchanged glares, but slowly backed down from the edge of violence. Resentment continued to simmer, but as the queue surged forward to rush the opening of the doors, fearful anticipation replaced all the other passions in the hearts of the rescuers.

“Judas Priest, here they come, get ready to hold ‘em boys!” Shouted the Security Chief.

The security plan worked with its normal efficiency and within minutes, 1700 oddly garbed ‘Daze’ fans were ushered into the Academy. They just began to settle when the entire theatre was plunged into complete darkness. Red lasers sliced through the hushed atmosphere, tracing every gasp of humid breath. A church organ thundered into Widors Toccata and Fugue, as a slow heartbeat shook the foundations of the building. The tempo of the beat increased rapidly, until it sounded to be on the edge of failure. A female voice exploded in the throes of orgasm.

“Yes, yes… Oh yes, at last… IT’S L-E-S…”

“BITCHES!!!” responded thousands of expectant voices.

The Academy filled with excited screams, punctuated only by the lightning of multiple strobes. The voice resumed its strident hymn.

“…And now for you Bristol, it’s the Demoness of desire, the sister to strip the soul from your bones… IT’S…”

“MARGIT!!!” responded the heaving crowd.

A lone spotlight seared through the other effects and picked out a stunningly proportioned woman, her leather-clad back writhed in a mock climax. Deftly she spun to face the audience; her face was obscured with a bone white skeletal mask. Her sibilant voice fizzed and crackled.

“Margit is dead! Long live MIKA, Queen of the Daze!!”

The mask split and blonde hair cascaded onto leather bound shoulders, Mika’s savage beauty cut the air to ribbons; just as easily as her clawed hands shredded the redundant mask.

“MIKA, MIKA, MIKA!” the audience shouted, a little reluctantly to start with.

This soon changed into a frenetic chant, as Mika slashed open her costume to reveal her glistening, bewitching body in almost all of its stupefying glory. 
 
“It’s great to be in Bristol, England. England is home to one of my favourite Punk Rockers who celebrates his 50th birthday this year, Mr. Billy Idol!”

Cheers and catcalls rose to a cacophony in the theatre.

“So in tribute, I’ll start with our cover of Rebel Yell! Vampyre Yell!”

The stage burst into a myriad of spinning colours, each one finally settling on a single member of the band.

“On lead guitar, Macy McKechnie, on Bass, it’s Sylvie Dacor, Keyboard maestro Anna Klemp, Backing vocals Eli & Ali… Eloise Braggart and Alison Blackhead, last but not least, on Percussion Miss Pamela Morris…”

“AND ME MIKA! I WILL ROCK YOUR WORLD!!!”

Mika burst into the first verse:

Last night a little dancer came dancin' to my door,
Last night a little angel came pumpin cross my floor,
She said come on baby I got a licence for love,
And if it expires pray help from above.

In the midnight hour she cried, more, more, more,
With a vampyre yell she cried, more, more, more,
In the midnight hour babe, more, more, more,
With a vampyre yell, more, more, more,
More, more, more.

The crowd went crazy, and one of the craziest stood near the heaving mosh pit. Mid plunge, Pete was tapped on the shoulder. It was the tall bint from earlier.

“What!”

“My mate Cyn, she can’t see… can she get on your shoulders?”

“Now why would ‘pizza face’ wanna help, huh?”

“Don’t be like that… we can be nice, can’t we Cyn?”

Pete felt the girls hand travel up his leg, clearly targeting his groin. Pete chuckled, and then bending forward he grinned. Soon Cyn’s denim clad thighs were gripping his shoulders, and something far more intimate hugged the rear of his neck.

She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg,
But when I'm tired and lonely she sees me to bed,
What set you free and brought you to be me babe,
What set you free, I need you here by me.

Because

In the midnight hour she cried, more, more, more,
With a vampyre yell she cried, more, more, more,
In the midnight hour babe, more, more, more,
With a vampyre yell, more, more, more.

Further back in the audience, a half spoken, half signed conversation took place. Jolene and Leanne nodded their agreement, and the two men walked away from them. Jeff made his way along the left hand side of the auditorium, while Fizz attempted the same tactic on the right.

“Do you think they’ll find anything?” Jolene asked Leanne.

“I hope so, but there’s a lot of security to get past.” Leanne nodded towards the human cordon in front of the stage.

Jolene’s eyes filled with tears, and Leanne wrapped a supportive arm around her friend. Cautiously, almost unnoticed, Leanne’s hand found Jolene’s left breast, and moulded to it. Normally Jolene would have reacted to such an intimate approach, but she needed the comfort; anyway it felt quite nice, as she felt her nipple swell against the pleasant pressure.

She lives in her own heaven,
Collects it to go from the seven eleven,
Well she's out all night to collect a fare,
Just so long, just so long it don't mess up her hair.

I walked the ward with you, babe
A thousand miles with you,
I dried your tears of pain, babe 
A million times for you.

Pete groaned under his panting breath, a response to the unknown girl’s hand snaking its way into his boxer shorts. Her supple wrist undulated against his gaping zipper as she moved it in long slow strokes. His foreskin slid back and forth teasing the mighty head of his pistoning erection. He was in heaven; his straining organ was being expertly massaged, as his neck was caressed by a taut pussy dampened crotch. He had waited for something like this all his short, frustrated life; if he died today he would make a happy corpse.

Cyn concentrated on gyrating her hips, incessantly she bumped against the nodules on Pete’s protruding spine; driving herself from one heady release to the next. She opened her weary eyes and stared around the crowded gig; it looked just like her idea of a debauched Roman orgy. As far as she could see stretched a sea of franticly coupling fans, she grinned, closed her eyes and came again.

I'd sell my soul for you babes,
For money to burn with you,
I'd give you all, and have none, babe
Just, just, justa, justa to have you here by me.

Because

In the midnight hour she cried, more, more, more,
With a vampyre yell she cried, more, more, more,
In the midnight hour babe, more, more, more,
With a vampyre yell she cried, more, more, more,
More, more, more.

Fizz finally reached the edge of the stage, and with a rebel yell, he launched himself at it. Initially it went quite well, he got both feet onto the top step before the rough handed security guards reached him. Suddenly from Fizz’s view the stage flew backwards, and with a sickening crunch he slammed down, back first, onto the solid floor. Security guards poured across the stage front, joyfully piling on top of the downed man.

Unwatched and unseen, Jeff slipped up onto the left hand side of the stage; cautiously he fumbled through the dark set, and headed back stage.

Oh yeah little baby,
she want more,
More, more, more, more, more.

Oh yeah little baby,
she want more
More, more, more, more.

Indeed she did, and the more she got, the harder Cyn’s legs tightened around Pete’s scrawny neck. He didn’t realise how hard he was fighting for breath until he came. He exploded, showering white, hot semen all over the tall girl’s hand, and the teasing, rubbing buttocks of the writhing girl in front of him. He fought for breath, his eyes glassy with passion and oxygen-starvation. Pete felt the thighs around his neck clamp even tighter, she had mistaken his panic for passion; or worse… she may not care. Supported by the jiggling crowd, Pete danced on, a jerking, choking marionette.

The tall girl slid down and struggling between the heaving bodies managed to fasten her lips on Pete’s limp cock. The stimulation fuelled by near asphyxia produced an instant and rock hard result. Greedily the teenager slurped Pete’s ultimate erection.

Mika stalked the stage regally, lapping up the tumultuous applause. She bowed and fawned like a true pro. Finally she stepped back to the mike, pulled it savagely to her lips and screamed.

“I told them I had no need of this fucking thing! But do men ever listen.” 

Mika ripped the mike from its stand and launched it with all her might up into the balcony. 

“Now for my new song, and our new anthem… VAMPYRE DAZE!”

Jeff stopped and stood silently, waiting for the band to strike up once more. Although all eyes were transfixed on Mika, Jeff was certain thousands of malevolent pupils were boring into his back. Jeff shuddered involuntarily, and then moved once more as the strident opening chords rang out.

Girl you can feel it in your blood,
You can feel it in your bone,
Tonight's gonna be hot,
An' you won't be alone.

My lips will make you thirst,
And I will do my worst,
Coz before the night is done,
Girl you are gonna comeeeee.

You will wanna laze,
Yeah, you'll be in a haze,
So welcome my lover,
To the vampire dazeee,
Yeah, the vampire dazeee, dazeeeee!’

Janet rapidly unwrapped the mirror fragment, and desperately tried to ignore the impure desires stirred by Bobbi rubbing seductively against her. The signal had been given, and she must respond before melting into Bobbi’s welcoming arms. With as much precision as she could muster, she lined up the mirror with the main laser and waited, ignoring all around her, for the key word. Frustrated and hungry at the same instant, she waited; soon she would unleash her powers.

I gaze down on you all,
I just know you were born to fall,
Tonight you will realise,
Just how to read the lies.

My hands will tease your skin,
While my soul your mind is in,
Coz before the night is done,
Girl you are gonna comeeeee.
 
You will wanna laze,
Yeah, you'll be in a haze,
So welcome my lover,
To the vampire dazeee,
Yeah, the vampire dazeee, dazeeeee!

Jeff poked his head into the confined space of the first changing room. He peered through the door cautiously at first but then his excitement overtook his sanity. He flung the door open and dashed towards the knot of women on the floor. Despite his shock and revulsion, he managed to talk as he pulled Maldea from between their daughter’s splayed thighs. The other two girl’s took little notice and continued their impassioned soixante neuf.

“Christ almighty, come on stop this, we can escape… Maldea, Lalo, the back doors now!” Jeff pleaded.

Maldea calmly observed Jeff, while delicately licking her lips. Her left hand toyed with her own labia, her right with Lalo’s.

“Escape Jeff? Why would we want to escape?” She asked.

“Maleda! Your own daughter, and her friends… I know you. You don’t want this!”
 
“No Jeff, I don’t want it, you are right. But I need it. I crave for it, and every waking minute I desire it. I have no need of you any more. Leave us, we are lost. Save yourself.” Maldea blinked, turned her head resolutely and went back to lapping Lalo’s open slit.

“No! I won’t let this happen, this is my fault. We should have done as you said and snuffed them out in New York. Maldea please, before it is too late!”

Maldea reacted instantly; she stood and turned with inhuman speed. Her right hand fastened around Jeff’s pulsing neck. Effortlessly she lifted him off his feet.

“Human, it’s already too late,” Maldea’s eyes flamed.

She threw him bodily backwards, and into the restraining arms of Manda and Jolene. The faithful servants had appeared unushered in the open doorway.

“Deal with him, I am busy.” Maldea mumbled, still teasing the bud under her swirling tongue.

‘Tonight you will learn to fly, 
And fear of who you are will die,
My love will break your mind,
And vampyre lust you will find,

Your pulse will be my prize,
As you splutter out wild cries,
Coz before the night is done,
Girl you are gonna comeeeee.

You will wanna laze,
Yeah, you'll be in a haze,
So welcome my lover,
To the vampire dazeee,
Yeah, the vampire dazeee, dazeeeee!’

Pete could hear the grinding of bone-on-bone as he wheezed another agonising breath. But the numbing agony was nothing compared to the searing pleasure about to spurt forth onto a questing muscular tongue. His body stiffened as if with rigor mortis, as he approached a terminal orgasm. 

On his hunched shoulders, Cyn had lost all control. Mindlessly she grinned as she let go of her last inhibition. A warm stream of piss gushed down Pete’s rigid spine. Pete came, and went, in the space of one short breath. Still the lifeless marionette danced, captive and held upright by throngs of her mesmerised fans.

Look deep into my eyes,
They will mirror your sighs,
As my lips plunder your wet thighs,
For here, bleeding, love lies,

Today will never end,
For in my arms you will spend,
Coz before the night is done,
Girl you are gonna comeeeee.

You will wanna laze,
Yeah, you'll be in a haze,
So welcome my lover,
To the vampire dazeee,
Yeah, the vampire dazeee, dazeeeee!

Janet’s spell was broken; as the word ‘mirror’ left Mika’s lips, she uncovered the fragment fully. The laser hit the dull surface and brought it to full sparkling, fiery life. Red shafts of desire radiated out and bounced off every surface. The beams met at the stage, and a phenomenal red ball of light erupted. 

Mika emerged, and beaconed to both Helen and Laura, who were chatting at the right of the stage. Dutifully, the two girls’ sauntered forward, freeing their swinging breasts from the small leather halter-tops they sported. The crowd roared their lust-filled approval. Mika held her hands high, showing the crowd the hungry, dribbling ducts at their centres. She then reached forward and placed her right hand on Helen’s left breast, and her left hand on Laura’s right breast. Rivulets of crimson blood dribbled down the women’s sweating bodies.

Jim turned to the security guard beside him, in awe he shouted above the thundering rock chords.

“They sure know how to put on a show…”

Before his sentence was complete, all hell broke loose. The throbbing ball of red laser light imploded, and then shattered, bursting with life-altering shafts of contaminated light. A tidal wave of impurity ravaged the academy, engulfing all before it.

When the dull red mist finally cleared, the once excited venue looked like a war zone. The stage was wrecked, and all that once stood before the audience was gone; vaporised, in an instant of obscene passionate violence. The fallen and injured lay everywhere. 

One laser continued to run, it wrote an obscure quotation on to the back wall of the decimated theatre, it read.

“I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people.”

                ------------------------------

Chapter Sixteen: Security

"What the hell is up with the traffic this morning?" Bill grumbled.

"Dunno, let's see what the local radio has on it," Bob replied reaching for the dash.

The dulcet tones of Ali Vowles filled the van’s cabin.

"Major disruption to traffic continues in Bristol today, following last nights tragedy at a popular concert venue. Scores remain missing and hundreds are injured, after an unexplained explosion on stage during a performance by the New York rockers Les Bitches..."

"Shit my Cyn was at that, what the fuck..."

"Cyn was watching them perverts," Bob sucked air in through his nicotine-stained teeth, "din't she come 'ome then?"

"Nah, shuddup will ya, I wanna listen!" Bill barked.

"... there is no news from the management team of the band, but eye-witnesses report them being torn apart by a massive blast. The injured are being taken to both the BRI and Southmead Hospital's, due to the large number of orthopaedic cases. Over now to our roving reporter Laura Newton, who is at the disaster site..."

"It sounds bad Bill, what do you want to do, I mean if it were my daughter..."

"Let's listen, there might be a number to call," Bill replied.

Bob stared at his ashen-faced friend, he went to ask if Bill was OK, but something in the older man's expression froze the words on his lips.

"... so tell me Kylie, what was it like in there?" the reporter gushed.

"It was horrible, the place went crazy, people were screwing everywhere, and then some odd girl grabbed me. She tore off my tee-shirt and..."

"Um, thank you Kylie, you are clearly upset," Laura's voice tailed off for an instant, "Over now to Charlie Farley, who is co-ordinating the rescue. Mr Farley, do you have any comments on the reported orgy and assaults prior to the attack?"

"Yes I do young lady, these people, youngsters, have been through hell and back. Most of them are in deep shock, at the moment you can't rely on their comments. We need to give them time to recover."

"So are you saying they are lying? Kylie, what are your feelings on that suggestion?"

"I-I, my best friend is dead!" Kylie's voice descended into racking sobs.

"Leave her be, you insensitive twat! Really you people..." growled Charlie, before the mike was swept away from him.

"And with that controversy raging, this is Laura, handing you back to Ali in the studio."

Bill's voice reverberated in the van.

"Dead, people are dead! Oh my god... Cynthia."

"...concerned relatives should contact one of the following numbers 0117..."

Bill hung his head down, his creased forehead touched the steering wheel; massive shoulders undulated, and his large body shook. When finally his face reappeared from the shadows, his tanned cheeks were wet.

"It's OK Bill, I got the numbers, I'm sure Cyn will be fine, come on mate, chin up!"

"I hopes you're right Bob, I just hopes you’re right."

             ------------------------------

Sister Amelia George stared down the ordered ward, never had she seen it so full. Multiple beds had been conveyed from the male wards to the female ones. Oddly most of the injured had been female, and the vast majority of fatalities male. Amelia's analytical mind was troubled, not by professional considerations, no after all, the major incident plan had worked perfectly, it was the nature of this disaster and it's outcome that was so off-key.

"Penny for you thoughts on this one sister," asked Dr Jordan.

"I wish I had some, I have never seen anything like this."

"Well I have read about similar cases, Post-Trauma. But never this manifestation, or so wide-spread, ooops sorry wrong word!" the young doctor laughed.

"I don't find it amusing, I mean some of them are quite poorly, and yet they still, they still -- I mean it's not normal!"

"Sister, I think even the medical profession now considers masturbation normal, even if this is a little excessive. Just keep them sedated, it seems to, er, reduce their 'activity'."

"But what can account for this? I mean how do we control them if they are still like this in a week’s time? Physically many of them will be recovered, but we can't sedate them forever, can we?"

"No we can't, but I think this is temporary erotomania, remember that by all accounts these young women were in a highly excited state when the explosion occurred. This is just the aftermath of the two events juxtaposed."

"Well I for one hope it's soon over, I mean my nurses are not trained to look after sex maniac's."

"Amelia, they are still patients, look, I have to go and check on Sister McMahon's ward. Whatever you do, keep the mobile one's well under. We can't have them rampaging through the hospital in this state," Dr Jordan managed a luke-warm smile.

"You mean Margy has them as well?"

"Don't worry you are not the only one, we currently have three wards full and more arriving as we speak..."

Dr Jordan was interrupted by the opening of the ward’s doubled doors. A bespectacled lady, clipboard in hand, gazed at the medical staff for one long second.

"Dr Jordan, a word!"

Derek Jordan walked briskly towards the swinging doors.

"Ah, see how he responds to his masters voice," chuckled Amelia, ignoring the two fingers he obscenely jabbed behind his long white coat.

In the corridor, Derek was confronted both by Winona Law, the Chief administrator and Harry Hill from security.

"Well Jordan, any change? Are they more... settled?" asked Winona.

"No, they are only 'settled' under heavy sedation, and even then many are still mast..."

"I get the picture, thank you. I have asked Harry to get his men to secure the affected wards. Only staff will get in or out, understood?"

"Staff and I presume visitors?" asked Derek.

"No, I am quarantining the wards. No visitors."

"But we have no reason for quarantine, this is purely psychological in origin. I must protest, there is no medical reason why..."

"Listen to me Jordan, we are canning this story. If it gets out, serious questions will be asked. The Hospital and the trust have had enough bad publicity. I am releasing this, by way of explanation."

Derek read the press release with increasing mirth.

"...it is believed that the explosion was most likely due to toxic gases leaching into the Academy club. At this time the nature and toxicity of the gases is unknown. In order to limit exposure to chemical and/or radiological risk the patients affected will be quarantined from all contact with the outside world. The trust will update relatives, and then the press when such restrictions are lifted. Until that time, no details, including identity, will be provided."

"This is outrageous, you don't have the authority..." Derek protested.

"I do Dr Jordan, the Trust just unanimously voted through the approval of my plan. Now if you forgive me I have others to inform."

Derek watched impassively as the administrator and her side-kick walked away. He whistled softly under his breath.

"Barking, completely barking."

He turned right and headed for the Keller ward, 30 yards later the corridor formed a t-junction. Derek swung left and sighed deeply as he walked towards the guarded door.

"Hi Doc, good to see you," wisecracked Skipper.

"I wish I could say the same Skip, this place has finally flipped!"

Derek opened the door a smidgen and squeezed through. For a couple of minutes he just observed the rows of beds. In a few, the occupants slumbered peacefully. The rest of the beds were witness to the passions of their residents, covers writhed and seethed as the limbs of the impassioned women thrashed wildly around. 

Idly he watched as one of the student nurses approached a patient to take routine obs. He couldn't fail to notice how lithe she was under her pale blue uniform, as she was silhouetted momentarily by a window which she passed. She moved towards one of the inactive patients and began to attach a blood-pressure cuff. An instant later the young nurse screamed.

The patient had obviously been feigning sleep. In a flash, she gripped the startled student by the back of the neck, and threw her bed clothes back. Her nightdress had ridden up and her inflamed sex was exposed. With brutal speed, she forced the young nurse’s face to her hungry organ. The patient ground her vulva savagely against the hidden face. By the time Derek had reached the bed, the female occupant was part way into her orgasm, as she hammered her labia against the nurse’s screwed-up features. 

Dr Jordan grasped the student’s quaking shoulders and tried in vain to release her. He summoned up his strength, and pulled once more. The spluttering nurse was pulled free, but with such force that both she and the doctor tumbled backwards onto the cool ward floor. By the time they recovered the patient had vanished, the only witness to her passing was the swinging ward doors.

Cursing, Derek ran to the nurses station, and hit the intercom.

"This is Jordan on Keller, one of the affected patients is on the loose, she is violent and should be approached with care. She may respond to the name..." Derek cursed once more, "what’s the name on her chart?"

The nurse whimpered and crawled to the end of the bed, through her tears she read unsteadily.

"Cyn... Cynthia Blakelock, 17 years old."

             ------------------------------

The Emergency Department was in total chaos, the living wounded lay on stretchers all over the place, in corridors, and even the vestibule was full to overflowing. On one particular stretcher lay a bruised and battered 50 something male, his lean body hunched into an uncomfortable part-foetal posture. Besides him stood two women, the concern they felt was etched deeply into their faces.

Leanne spoke, and her voice creaked with weariness.

"So once he is patched up, we go and find the others? Is that the plan?"

"Others, what others?" asked Jolene dimly.

"My Cath, Lalo, Maldea, Rachael, Jeff and Janet - who else?"

"Darling, we may have to face it, we may never find them. As bad as it may seem, us surviving may be the only good news. I think they have all gone."

"Gone? You mean dead don't you?"

"Yes, face it, we only survived thanks to following the St Johns Ambulance guys out once they had rescued Fizz. Anyone near the stage was... history."

Leanne let out a long mewl of anguish.

"I suppose you are right, I just can't accept it..."

"Who do we have here then?" a small, bustling nurse interrupted.

"This is Fizz, Dr Justin Fazakerley, he’s been badly beaten."

"Well at least that's something more normal than most! He'll be with us a while, do you want to get a coffee or something?"

"OK," Jolene answered as she watched the diminutive nurse wheel her love away.

She turned and eyed the coffee queue with disdain, that was out. Jolene wondered about freshening up, but the line from the ladies stretched even further than the one for the canteen. Her mind was made up in an instant.

"Leanne, let's go back to the Hotel and freshen up, it's not far and Fizz won't miss us for a while." Jolene saw the uncertainty in Leanne's eyes, and added, "there might be some news on the TV."

Leanne simply nodded, and hand-in-hand supporting each other, the sadden women left casualty, walking into the damp welcome of a Bristol morning.

             ------------------------------

Winona frowned at her computer screen, she raised her manicured fingers to the apex of the bridge of her nose and pinched the skin. She needed to concentrate, to stay on top of this; it was her task to keep the media scrum at bay while the medics worked on the unruly women. Her phone rang, once, twice, and on the third ring she answered it, composed and professional.

"Winona Law CAO, how may I help?"

"Winnie, it's Harry, we have an issue."

"What sort of issue?"

"The worst sort, one of the 'affected' patients has made a bid for freedom."

"Indeed and how the hell did they get out of the ward?"

"One of the guy's took a pee break, Dr Jordan was on ward so he thought..."

"Harry, I pay them to guard, not think, who was it?"

"One of my best men, I will sort it Winnie."

"Harold, please call me Winona at work, tell me who. I need to prepare his P45."

"Winona, let's not be hasty, Skipper is an old friend."

"Yes Harold, an old friend and an ex-security guard! Get over it, and find that bloody lunatic before we all land in the shit!"

"Yes Winona," Harry replied meekly, blinking in amazement, she had sworn, Winona -- this was serious.

Winona silently chastised herself as she returned the receiver to its cradle. She had lost her cool and with Harry of all people. Once this had blown over she was going to take some leave, get away from the crushing pressure that the hospital and trust exerted on her. She stood and walked to her window, wide eyed she gazed at her empire. Stretching before her was the BRI itself, and across the road, downhill lay the other hospitals. She mentally named them, remembering the staff requirements of each. 

Slowly she started to recover her composure, here she stood surveying her world and reveling in the power surge it gave her. The rush was incomparable, oh sex with Harry sometimes came close, but it wasn't as reliable. The hairs on Winona's elegant neck prickled, she an uncanny feeling she was being watched. She hesitated for a second before turning to confront the observer.

She found herself nose-to-nose with a patient, Winona's panicked eyes searched for humanity in the red-rimmed orbs staring at her, they found none. Winona backed away, pressing her grey suit jacket against the cool glass behind her. She blinked, breaking contact with the madly staring eyes before her. She found her voice, but even to her it sounded thin and inconsequential.

"Now don't do anything rash, I can have security here in a second."

The girl considered this, and took two paces backwards. Winona relaxed a little, her ploy had worked. Then her blood ran cold, she watched in horror as the scantily clad girl ripped the phone from its socket, and smashed the intercom with her extended left fist. Alone and terrified, Winona wished Harry was there.

An instant later, the girl launched herself at the Chief Administrator, her claw-like fingertips slashed through the delicate silk blouse and caught the rim of a bra cup, spilling out Winona's right breast. Cynthia's hands aimed at a new target, and with unerring accuracy found Winona's neck. The struggling administrator was lifted off her feet and her head slammed into the window pane, shattering it completely. The older woman felt a warm patch pool thickly in her hair, before it trickled in a bloody stream down her back. Winona was convinced she was about to die, but something worse awaited her.

Her eyes bulged, partly from being throttled, and partly from the odd sensation of another woman's lips fastening on her bouncing nipple. Despite her fear and regardless of her disgust, the small nub of flesh erected fiercely against the girl's saliva-coated tongue. Sharp teeth grazed the raised bud, bringing delicious, shuddering shivers to Winona's suspended body. Under her designer skirt the silken crotch of her French knickers flooded with unwanted desire, and her unruly clitoris reared up against the sleek fabric.

Half throttled and bleeding profusely, Winona Law experienced new heights of dizzying sexuality. Suddenly the red-rimmed eyes were level with hers once more. Unable to look away Winona let her soul go as she felt it flow out of her and into the depths of hell that beckoned in the black pupils watching her. Her feet were back on the floor, her thighs widely spread. Cynthia's hands slid up the leg of her loose knickers and plundered her spasming vulva. She bucked as first one finger, and then two, found the virgin orifice of her anus.

Lost to the world, Winona slid her hands down her abdomen and pressed hard just above her slick hairless mound. As her need was so strong she moved bringing the fat bud of her clitoris into firm contact with the wet heel of Cynthia's hand. Winona came hard, as a third finger probed her stretched anal muscles.

From somewhere the debauched administrator heard a door open in another universe. She was aware of a struggle and the bitter loss of Cynthia's hands on her wet labia. Sighing in frustration, Winona replaced the missing digits with her own and sank further into the insanity of endless desire.

Cynthia was much more aware of her situation. She was very aware of the incredible pain in her fingers, as she hung on the edge of the window sill; shards of glass lacerated her slippery digits. Fearfully she looked down, surely she was to see her own death staring back at her. Oddly she smiled and released the window sill, plunging away from it at speed.

Derek pulled out his mobile, and shouted into it impotently.

"Harry, she's attacked Winona and dropped onto the Queens' building fire escape. Get someone to the bottom, now. You get up here, Winona looks in a bad way."

Derek turned his professional attention to the injured administrator. Using her own blood as a lubricant, the desperate woman forced herself from one degraded climax to the next. Dr Jordan hung his head, dazed by the day’s awful events. His mobile beeped, and displayed 'message received'. Automatically his fingers retrieved the text.

He stared at it in disbelief, it was his 'quote for the day'. Emblazoned across the screen of his phone was the most ironic of quotes.

"Security
Is mortals' chiefest enemy. Wm. Shakespeare, Macbeth (3.5.32)"

Derek laughed bitterly, as he moved in -- to try and restrain his writhing Chief Administrator.

             ------------------------------

Chapter Seventeen: To be thus 

Leanne sat motionless on the edge of the bed and gazed at her shaking hands. She felt as if her life was over, her daughter was lost; just as Andrew had been years before. Andrew's loss had been slow and painful, just as cancer always was. But at least it had been expected, not like this. Cath had been torn from her, nothing mattered. Nothing. She watched in silence as Jolene wandered back into the bedroom from the en-suite, her body still dripping from the shower, her hair hidden under the turban-like towel. Leanne struggled with her emotions and lost, with a shriek she descended into floods of tears.

Jolene crossed the room in a single bound, her toweling robe billowing open around her. She bent and took Leanne's crumpled face in her hands.

"Come on, love. I am here for you," said Jolene.

"But are you?" asked Leanne, raising her hands to cup Jolene's dangling breasts.

Jolene shrugged the warm hands away and grasped the edges of her terry robe to conceal her boobs.

"I'm sorry, not like that, any other way - I'm just not into women."

"But last night, I touched you and you responded..." 

"Last night was a one off! What's up with you anyway? You were as red-blooded as any girl when you were younger," 

"I... I just don't know, I had this odd lesbo fantasy in the shower the other morning. Ever since then, I just have. The sick thing was the fantasy involved Cath. I'm sick Jolene, I don't deserve to live!"

"Cath! This is all down to those 'Bitches'. I don't know how, but I know it was," Jolene paused, catching her thoughts, "at least they are fuckin' dead meat."

Leanne looked up, and brushed her damp hair away from her tear-stained cheeks. She mouthed silently but the words wouldn't come. Finally she splurted them out.

"The thing is they are not, somehow that perverted, dirty fantasy links me to them. I know they are alive, I don't know where, I don't know how - but I know they are alive..."

"What! All of them, my Rebbecca too?" asked an agape Jolene.

"That's the cruelest thing, I know those women are alive... But not the girls. I... can't see the girl's..."

Leanne hung her head and sobbed deeply. Jolene stared at her disconcerted friend, she wanted desperately to say something, but she couldn’t find the words. A sudden rap at the door made Jolene jump. In a trance, she walked to the door and paused.

"Who's there?" she asked quietly.

A hesitant voice replied.

"I'm from the hospital..."

Before the sentence was finished, Jolene ripped the door open.

"Fizz, has something happened to Fizz?” Asked Jolene in desperation.

The partly dressed teenager in front of her asked, "Who the hell's Fizz?" Before she barged past Jolene and into the room.

              ------------------------------------

Dr Jordan let a low whistle pass his lips. Finally Ms Law had settled, her fevered self-pleasuring had passed. Derek wanted to communicate with her if he could, he hoped his voice would break through her coma.

"Winona, it's Dr Jordan, Derek Jordan, can you hear me?"

Winona tossed her head on the striped pillow, her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Encouraged, Derek tried once more.

"Winona, make a sign if you hear me, let me know!"

The shrunken, disheveled woman grimaced, as she uttered one word indistinctly.

"Vumpphas..."

Derek bent closer, bringing his ear close to Winona's lips.

"Say again, once more, Winona."

"Vampires..."

Derek sighed, and straightened up, his half-smile disappeared.

"Delirious," he said to the still empty room.

A gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Dr Jordan, can you come to the visitors room on Keller?" it asked.

"Not at the moment Amelia, I want to try to make some sense of this... condition," replied Derek.

"I would appreciate your help Derek, you see it's Mr Blakelock..."

"As in Cynthia B..."

"The very same, Derek."

Derek Jordan reluctantly joined Sister George and trudged towards Keller. His mind raced, it was one thing to tell a relative of a death, but how did you explain to a man you had, only too literally, lost his teenaged daughter?

              ------------------------------------

"You know, don't you! Tell me, I know you know..."

The irate teenager stared directly at Leanne, her slim body stiffening with rage. When no reply came from the weeping woman she calmly reached forward and slapped her with a force she had seemed incapable of.

"Hey! That's enough, who the hell do you think you are bursting in here, attacking my friend!" screamed Jolene, as she grasped the girl's wrist halting a further blow.

"Why don't you ask your precious friend? she knows," the angry girl spat.

Confusion creased across Jolene's face, she moved her head to look at Leanne. In addition to the red imprint left by the girl's hand there was something else, the tell-tale sign of guilt.

"Leanne, what is this crazy woman talking about?"

"This is Cynthia, or rather Cyn. I asked her to come here," answered Leanne.

"What! When? We have never seen her before..." asked Jolene.

"I told you about the link, Cyn is part of it. I called her... in my head."

"Why? I don't understand, Leanne, what can she do to help?"

"She was at the concert, she is like me. Cursed to be linked to the vampires. Together we can find them... but..." Leanne sobbed.

"But what?" asked Jolene, "Come on spit it out."

Leanne said nothing. Cyn was more vocal.

"But only through sex, we have to have sex. It strengthens the link, doesn't it Leanne?

The sobbing woman nodded as she avoided looking at Jolene.

"So that's what you were up to! Trying to seduce me before this... this girl arrived to make it a lesbian orgy!" Jolene's voice crackled with barely suppressed anger.

Leanne's reply was barely audible.

"Yes..."

Cyn wrestled herself free of Jolene's failing grip, and with a fluid motion she drew her nightdress over her head. Buck naked the young woman stood, her slim legs obscenely splayed.

"The plan hasn't changed," said Cyn.

"The plan hasn't... fuck off! Over my dead body," raged Jolene.

The girl laughed.

"Violence won't be necessary, I can be very persuasive..."

Cyn simply placed one hand on either of Jolene's shoulders. She exerted no pressure, nothing that could account for the buckling of Jolene's knees. Gradually, but unrelentingly Jolene's eyes passed the landmarks of Cyn's body. The sleek neck, protruding collar bones, the soft swell of her breasts and the sharp contrast of her wicked looking nipples. Eventually the smooth fecund abdomen grazed past Jolene's lips then the fine pubic hair tickled her nostrils. Pleading, begging, the crouched woman looked up at her abuser.

Cynthia just smiled, and then opened her mouth widely. To her horror Jolene felt her mouth respond, mirroring the girls wide yawn. An instant later, Jolene's mouth was filled with damp folds and unknown pungent tastes. She felt every judder of Cyn's young body as the teenager raked her flooded slit across Jolene's lips. The girl grunted and pressed her mound forward, her protruding clitoris burning a soft groove into Jolene's tongue.

Her mind fought against being used as a sex object by another woman. Her will power was strong, but her body was weaker. To add to Jolene's disgust, she felt the telltale butterflies flutter over her stomach, followed by the first trickle of love juice down her thigh. Breathing hard through her compressed nose she concentrated hard, forcing the pleasurable sensations away. She did not want this. Her head started to clear, and Jolene was able to bring the palms of her hands up, and placed them on Cyn's trembling buttocks. The girl mistook this for passion and drove her slimy vulva deeper into Jolene's open mouth. Jolene prepared herself, one hard push and she could over-balance this little madam.

The push however never came, as Jolene steeled herself for the effort, she was finally defeated. Not by Cyn, no, not Cyn. It was the sudden arrival of Leanne's warm mouth on Jolene's bare pussy that crushed the fight out of her. One second she was resisting with all her might, and the next was coming in exactly the same way. As Jolene shouted her pleasure into Cyn's rampant organ she felt another more intense orgasm brewing. The pattern was relentless, release and build up, climaxes following one another without time to recover. Jolene was surrounded by soft feminine flesh, and her reluctance drowned in the warmth and wetness it offered.

              ------------------------------------

Bill Blakemore looked up as the door of the sparse room opened.

"How is she Doc, how is my Cynthia?"

"Ah I see, how much did Sister tell you?" Derek asked.

"Nuthin' she told me to wait on you, what's going on!"

"Well, I have good news and bad news, which would you like first?"

"The good, I need some good."

"Cynthia is not physically harmed, she is fit and able," said Dr Jordan.

"So can I take her home Doc? Or what?"

"That's the bad news, she's quite mentally unstable. She attacked a colleague of mine and er, she absconded."

"That's crap! My Cyn wouldn't attack nobody, let alone someone helping her. You've lost her haven't you -- I've heard about this, what did you do, leave her on a trolley for hours and then find she'd buggered off?" Bill clenched his ham sized fists.

"No! Mr Blakemore nothing of the sort, your daughter was undoubtedly in post traumatic shock. Nonetheless, she sexually assaulted a nurse and physically attacked our administrator. She then escaped..."

"Why you lyin' shit! You are covering summat up aren't ya. I'll make a necktie outta your bollocks, sunshine." Bill roared as he launched himself across the small room.

Derek recoiled heading instinctively for the door, but his tiredness negated the age difference between him and the irate builder. An instant later and his head was locked under the immense, sweaty arm of Cynthia's father.

Bob who had been a bystander to this point, shot into action.

"No Bill there's no point, leave him! We will find Cyn, find her and take her home. You'll see," he pleaded.

"I should throttle him, just for what he said!" growled Bill, his biceps bulging.

Derek’s skin turned from a shade of grey to puce.

"No, think Bill, think, how'll that help? We can find her, look after her -- can't we?"

Bill considered this for a second, and then chucked the gasping doctor across the room. Tubular plastic chairs scattered as Derek careered past them and slammed into the wall. Bob walked across to Bill and slung an arm around him ushering him through the half glazed door. Just before he left, he glanced back to the crumpled man on the floor.

"Looks like it's your lucky day Doc, bye."

              ------------------------------------

Jolene groaned, she was in agony – her head felt as if it was going to burst. For long minutes she lay alone and naked on the unmade bed. She was desperately trying to remember who she was and where she was. There was an odd taste in her mouth, suddenly she gagged and coughed. She removed the tickling object from her mouth, and stared at it incredulously. It was a pubic hair, a dark blonde, glistening, pubic hair. All at once it flooded back, drowning her in misery. Jolene jumped up from her reclining position and called out.

“Leanne! Leanne where are you?”

No response.

“Cyn, Leanne, anyone?”

No response.

Jolene's attention was caught by a strong desire originating between her legs. She needed to pee. She made her way in haste to the en-suite. There she sat, legs akimbo, listening to the sound of her lusty stream pouring into the bowl. From her low vantage point she noticed the damp towels and wet shower curtain. Someone had recently vacated the bathroom. She reached out and grasped a sheet of toilet paper. She went to wipe herself and noticed writing scrawled on the scrap. Jolene held it up to the light to read.

'Jo, I have left with Cyn to seek out the Bitches. I left this secretly as I don't trust her; she is too much like them! Anyway you stay and look after Fizz. If he is well enough come to...”

Jolene grabbed at the next sheet; her hurried fingers fumbled the thin tissue. It floated from her hand, and landed on the damp tiles. Before her panicked eyes the writing started to run. Jolene snatched the scrap up and dabbed it against her bare thigh. She held it high to try and decipher it.

'xxxxxxilly xxxxle, it’s between Van and Bedwas. Under it thexx xxx xxxxxxns.
Go on train to xxxdifx it's not far xxxy.'

Tears of frustration filled Jolene's eyes. In sheer hope, she plucked off the next sheet.

'If I don't see you again – have a good life. Look after Fizz, he's a good 'un.
Love Lee...'

“Shit!”

Jolene tore off sheet after sheet, there was no more. She decided instantly that this puzzle needed Fizz's brain. It was beyond her; she just hoped and prayed that he would be well enough to help out.

              ------------------------------------

The train jostled through the lush countryside ambling its way to the final station. The brakes squealed and the train shuddered to a halt with enough force to pitch Gwen out of her doze. She glanced out of the grimy window and yawned. She instantly recognised the scenery, the train was approaching Newport, it looked as if the express was late again. She looked back into the carriage and across the aisle, what she saw confused her. She blinked her eyes, trying to force them to re-adjust to the dimness of the carriage. Her eyes widened as she realised she was not mistaken.

A young woman sat opposite her, her head reclined on the headrest, her face showing complete relaxation. Beside her sat an older woman, unremarkable in looks. But deep in concentration, her paper folded on her lap. Not at first sight anything unusual. It was what the woman was concentrating on, that was disconcerting. She was apparently focusing all her attention on rhythmically rotating her right hand, which sat buried deep within the open zipper of the younger woman's jeans. Gwen narrowed her eyes feigning sleep. 

'I wonder if she knows? Is she really asleep? Should I stop this assault?'

The questions tumbled through Gwen's troubled mind. In an instant an answer was given. The girl's previously relaxed arm twitched on the grey plastic armrest. Delicately she moved it, her fingers coming to rest on the silver stud above her belly button. Nervously they plucked at the piercing, before dipping into her indented navel and mirroring the circular motion of the hand between her thighs.

'I should stop watching, this isn't right...' Gwen thought.

Gwen decided to turn her head, but a motion stopped her. The girl's hand had slipped under the hem of her cropped top. Slowly and sensuously, it snaked upwards, only stopping when the extended fingertips met the erect bud of her nipple. Despite herself Gwen continued to watch as the fingers grazed the expanding bud, amazed to find her own nipples responding in kind. She had watched this sort of thing on video with her boyfriend Daffyd, and it had always left her cold, uninterested. But here playing the accidental voyeur, the effect was different, electrifying and erotic. Gwen shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat, only too aware of the growing heat in her tight knickers.

The girl arched her back softly, and blew a soft sigh between her open lips. The hand extended into her jeans jerked a little more erratically and with each jerk sank a little further through the gaping fly. Gwen watched silently as the young woman's ribs rose and fell with increasing passion. Gwen's own hand stirred in her lap exploring her covered mound through the soft fabric of her skirt. Sharp, delicious tremors fluttered across her tummy, as her other hand slid under the waist band of her skirt. Her fingertips caressed the fine down bordering her pubic hair. She shifted her legs slightly to obscure the sight of her public pleasuring and allowed her hand to drift towards its goal.

Gwen reopened her eyes a little, and drank in the seductive scenario playing out just an arm’s breadth from her. The younger woman was clearly on the cusp of her climax, as the older woman now rotated both her skillful hands. One delving between the youngsters thighs, the other between her own splayed legs. Gwen sighed and allowed her fingers under the edge of her knickers to dabble in the glorious wetness that was her vulva. 

Her eyes closed slowly as she concentrated on the wet tapping of her index finger against the crown of her stiff clitoris. Silently she bucked as the fluid retained so long by the glistening walls of her vagina pumped out to cover her pulsing lips. For long seconds she rode against contraction after contraction of pure pleasure.

When she opened her eyes the young woman stood beside her, gazing at her with the most appealing expression.

"Hello, I am Cyn, and this is Leanne. I hope you don't mind, but we couldn't help noticing..."

              ------------------------------------

Fizz sat up excitedly on the trolley, as he recognised the steps approaching him. A second later Jolene appeared around the corner, carrying a smile as big as the suspension bridge.

"Fizz! Am I happy to see you, are you OK, my love?"

"It takes more than a few ruffians to lay Dr Jule's low for long," Fizz replied with a lop-sided grin on his bruised features.

Fizz looked behind Jolene expectantly.

"Where's Leanne?" He asked.

"Long story, a long story I don't want to tell you," tears filled Jolene's eyes.

"Try me, love. I am a very understanding man."

"It's a bit public here," Jolene winced.

"Them, oh they are all too busy to listen in," Fizz reassured her.

"Well it all started when this girl Cyn turned up at the hotel..."

Jolene was interrupted by a passerby rushing up, he virtually exploded his question at her.

"Cyn, you have seen my Cyn? Where, where -- tell me!"

              ------------------------------------

Chapter Eighteen: Nature Seems Dead

Jeff circled the small dank cellar like a caged tiger, his hands hung limp at his side. Each digit was tipped by a bloodied, torn nail; try as he might, he could find no way of escape. As he finally slumped down on a dusty sarcophagus, the door creaked open behind him. Turning, Jeff saw a sensual female figure, framed in the doorway.

"Maldea?" he whispered.

"No my prince consort, it is I Mika."

"I'm no consort of yours, I despise you. I will..."

Mika's raised voice cut through the chilled air like a knife.

"Worship me, simper in my presence?" Mika laughed.

"Kill you, and that is a promise!" Jeff snarled.

"This is what I love about humans, you overestimate your powers so much," replied Mika.

Jeff seethed but refused to be drawn by Mika's tactics. He simply crossed his legs tightly and sat, brooding.

“You are sitting on my ancestor! Use the chair,” Mika snapped.

Jeff stood, crossed the room silently, and reclined on the sole wooden chair. Mika made her way down the stone steps and crossed the floor to the dusty stone sarcophagus. With apparent ease the Wampyr slid the thick lid off before picking it up and propping it against the slick fungi smeared wall. Turning to face Jeff, Mika paused, just long enough to lick her pale lips.

"This will be home for a little while Jeff, just until you are... Prepared for me," Mika laughed lustily.

"Now come to me consort, for I have waited long enough for our moment."

"You’re bloody mad woman, keep away from me."

"Oh I will, It is you who will come to I. Slave to mistress -- as it should be."

Mika moved her shoulders slightly, forcing the diaphanous gown to slip open. The gentle roundels of her breasts stole into view. Mika's eyes twinkled and emitted a soft red radiance. From nowhere, a wind rose in the sealed cellar, fierce enough to strongly ruffle Mika's blonde hair, sending wave after wave of shimmering light through it. Mika separated her legs elegantly, and planted each foot firmly on the dusty cellar floor.

Jeff swallowed hard, seldom had he seen anything as desirable. Try as he might, he could not deny the erection bulging against his now over-tight trousers. Slowly, he stood, and although every moral fibre of him resisted, Jeff took the first tentative step towards Mika. It seemed to him that the harder he fought against moving, the faster his transit towards the seductive Wamprye became. His fuddled brain made a decision, he should stop resisting, yes, yes, that would work. An instant later he arrived in Mika's outstretched arms, at last their lips met.

Reluctantly Mika broke the embrace, and sunk down to her knees; in a second Jeff's bobbing shaft was free. In the next second, it was captured by Mika's hungry mouth. She swallowed his full length down with amazing ease. Soon her sharp teeth nibbled provocatively at the base of his cock. Her nose was deeply buried in Jeff's dark, wiry pubic hair. Stretching, she let her flexible tongue tap delicate at the loose, swinging balls. 

She could sense the pulsing vein; as it squirted his life-blood through the solid manhood. Mika skilfully adjusted her caresses to match the beat of Jeff's desperate heart. He was on the edge of climax; the cusp of transformation! 

Mika ran her cool hands under Jeff's shirt, and upwards to his muscular chest. Her fingers combed through the thick fuzz of hair, before attacking his stiffened nipples. Mika knew the time was right, and she bit down hard, a heady mix of sperm and fresh blood washed into her waiting mouth. Now!

Mika released the spasming nipples, and spread her fingers wide. The palms pulsed with dark desire. In the centre of Mika's palms the lifelines separated, into open orifices. The large pores spewed forth their contents, solid columns of flesh flashed snake-like toward Jeff's quaking body. In a parody of vampyric hawks, the beaked points slashed into the blood-rich erectile tissues, and gobbled the offered nutrient. The attached fleshy columns rippled with each beat of Jeff's heart.  His back snapped to rigid attention... His entire body orgasmed, arching him like an erotic longbow.

Mika stepped back from her thrall, Jeff stood statuesquely, looking as if he would not have been out of place in Piccadilly Circus. Slowly she paced around him, admiring his strained body. Eventually she completed her circuit, and extended her arm. Her forefinger collected a globule of come from the tip of Jeff's glans. Delicately she lapped half of the thick droplet from her fingertip, before placing the leftover spunk in Jeff's mouth.

"My love, it is only fair that we share your last ever emission. Now relax my prince, relax and let me pose you."

Mika stepped away, and ran her hands across Jeff's body. She smiled as she moulded him to fit snugly into the empty casket. Minutes passed as Mika worked diligently, perfecting the mummy-like posture. She paused, before lifting her captive mate above her head with ease. Jeff was held aloft as Mika offered her tribute to the Wampyr gods. His savage erection had not subsided, and was the only part of him still in motion, rhythmically it twitched.

In a smooth sweep, Mika twisted and gently lowered her treasure into the sarcophagus. She stared at Jeff sadly, before she moved to retrieve the discarded lid.

Mika slipped her gown back over her mesmerising body, before climbing the cellar steps. Just before opening the door Mika turned, and stared down at the sealed coffin.

"Goodnight my prince, sleep well, princess..."

              ------------------------------------

“As you will see, the Castle is of concentric construction; a castle within a castle. This method of construction was popular in the 13th Century, when work on the structure began...” the guide paused for breath, “The most striking feature is the leaning tower, unfortunately due to restoration work we shan't be visiting the tower today. I will however take you to the best vantage points, so you can at least photograph the curiosity. This way please,”

The tour group mumbled and grumbled their disappointment, but dutifully followed the guide. All bar three, who held back.

Cyn caught hold of Leanne's arm.

“Well they may not be going there, but we are...”

“You mean in there, it doesn't look that safe.” replied Leanne.

“Well not so much in, as under, and it's safe enough, that why they are there!”

Leanne smiled.

“Come on then Gwen, we have some more exploring to do,” Leanne winked lewdly.

Gwen hesitated for an instant, and then fell into step behind her mistress. Soon the group neared the reclining tower. Workmen's voices rang out from a small cubicle tent.

“Laugh, I nearly peed myself; good old Aussies, we should make them honorary Welshmen carving up the English like that...”

“True enough... Win the Ashes, my arse!”

Cyn waved her hand at the others, and ducked under the construction tape. She hoped her new skills would serve her well. She sensed no other workmen, they must all be on tea-break. The trio of women walked past the arc lamps and tools. Cyn was on the scent of something unseen. The light dimmed as they walked away from the reconstruction area and further into the tower. Leanne could only just make out the door they were headed towards. Seconds later, Cyn grasped the rusted door pull and strained, it was securely locked.

“Adventure over, I have got to get away soon anyhow,” said Gwen.

Cyn smiled.

“Join hands, together we may just do this...”

Cyn let go of the door pull and held one hand out to the left and the other to the right. Warm palms met her own, Cynthia closed her eyes and concentrated. For long seconds nothing happened, eventually there was a slight grating sound, the sort a rusty bolt might produce. With a small shudder the door popped open.

“Just call me Houdini,” said Cyn.

“Cyn Houdini, it has a certain panache to it,” Leanne laughed.

Leanne moved first and pushed the door open. The others followed cautiously, snaking their way down the steep spiral staircase. 

“Gwenny, pull the door too, love,” whispered Cyn.

The troupe continued down the stairwell until the sound of raised voices reached their straining ears. Leanne stopped.

“How dare you! What have you done to him?”

“You remember my plan for him in New York? I have finally implemented it.”

“What? What plan... Oh my god, you sick bitch, I will kill you!”

“Strange, that's just what Jeff said...”

“How can you be so corrupt? You are the vilest person I have ever met.”

“Firstly, I am no longer a person Maldea, and secondly I don't lick out my own slut of a daughter...”

The cruel laughter was cut short, and the sound of a violent scuffle started. A high pitched scream was followed by pleading.

“No, don't make me, I won't! Not this time, not after this...”

“You will, and you will enjoy every second. Just think, soon you will be able to do this to your husband. Keeping it in the family once more.”

“You bitch, no... I won't... I mmmmph, mmmmmmph!”

The slobbering sound of intense oral worship instantly replaced the shouting and fighting. Leanne waited for the groans to become almost insane before she moved. Beckoning the others to follow, she dashed down the remaining flight of steps, and past the back of the two orgasmic women. The intrepid trio disappeared around the nearest corner and breathed a little more easily. Leanne checked her run and sauntered down the darkening corridor.

“What the fuck do we do now?” asked Gwen.

“We find the girl's and, if we can, the others and then - we leave this shit hole!” Leanne spat.

“I think that's a big ask,” said Cyn.

“It's the only thing I came for, what about you Cyn? Starting to feel at home are we?”

“Stop it, we need to fight them, not each other,” said Gwen.

“Sorry, Cyn... Sorry,” whispered Leanne.

“It's all right Leanne, I'm scared too.” Cyn replied.

“Yeah,” said Leanne, “I know...”

              ------------------------------------

Darkness, nothing but darkness, no sound, no input, just sensations, really
weird sensations. Not to mention the dreams full of colours and sensations, very odd feelings. Oddest of all, no idea of time, no knowledge of self, just floating in a sea of perverse sensuality. Then a glimmer, a shaft of reality, cutting through the storm clouds of a sexual hurricane. Then a memory, a face, Mika! A word, no a threat, princess. 

Blind thrashing panic, hands thrust upwards, useless against the solid stone slab. Useless, trapped, impotent. That word, the threat, slim hands descending fearfully, finding the organ. Still erect, tears, an unseen smile. But wait different, smooth, no veins, slippery, but something missing. Domed glans, perfectly smooth, complete, no urethra! Heart pounding, breathing shallow.

Trembling hands move lower, sneak between thighs, and into the wetness of an open slit. A slit framed by thick crinkled lips, another sensation, something slug-like sliding down thigh. More realisation, nausea, wake up, wake up, pinch lips hard, pain, pain, awake! Insanity, screaming, shouting insanity. Drowsy, 
hatred, revenge -- and at last sleep...

              ------------------------------------

Leanne hated to admit it, but she was lost, hopelessly lost. There were a myriad of tunnels beneath the tower, they must extend under the castle as well. It hadn't been negligence; they had just avoided the voices and sighs they heard. This worked well, and they had now avoided detection for almost an hour.

“You know if we are going to find them, we better hurry up, I don't want to be down here when it gets dark.”

“Dark? What time is it?” asked Gwen.

Leanne squinted at her watch.

“A half past five,” she muttered.

“Oh I must go, my mum will get worried if I'm not home by...”

Leanne cut across Gwen's whine.

“Go then, leave now, good riddance!”

“I would, but I don't know the way out!” Gwen protested.

“And nor do we, you silly cow! Nor do we...”

“Leanne, calm down, she’s just a kid, like me. I think we have to start going towards the voices if we are to have any chance of finding them,” said Cyn, sharply.

Leanne swallowed hard.

“OK, but try to find them, Cyn use your powers, and try to find them... Please.”

Cyn nodded and closed her eyes. She projected, the feelings began, indistinct at first, but then intense, almost overwhelming. So much sex, so many couplings, Cyn felt her pussy dampen in anticipation. Then something stronger, hatred, pain, outrage, and close, so close. Cyn panicked, jumping out of her trance with a jolt.

“Did you find them?”

No reply.

“Did you find them?” Leanne reached out and grasped Cyn's shoulder.

“No, no something else, something insane,” whispered Cyn.

“Go back, Cyn, go back and find my Cath, please!”

“OK, OK, I just got a bit spooked, sorry.”

Cyn shook her head, shrugged, sighed and closed her eyes once more.

The journey began once more, and almost immediately – contact. Someone close to Leanne, linked -- it had to be Cath!

“I've got her. This way,” whispered Cyn, pointing to the right.

Cyn set off quietly but at a pace, with the sure-footedness of someone with a detailed map. For minutes they careered through the narrow passageways, suddenly Cyn stopped, hesitating.

“You haven't lost her?” Leanne puffed.

“No she's around the next corner,” Cyn answered.

“Come on then,”

“Wait, Leanne wait,” Cyn called urgently.

Leanne, however, had disappeared around the corner. Seconds later she reappeared, triumphant with her arm slung around a young girl's shoulder. Smiling, she and the dopey teenager stumbled toward Cyn and Gwen. Cyn relaxed, before the girl screamed.

“The intruders are here, here!” She shouted.

“Cath, Cathy, love what are you doing?” Asked Leanne.

Cyn turned to Gwen.

“Run, we've lost Leanne, just fucking run, will you!”

              ------------------------------------

Gwen dashed through the endless corridors, pausing occasionally to push at doors, locked, all locked. She glanced back over her shoulder. Cyn was just ten feet behind her, urging her on. She swung around a corner and spotted a door, and gave it a light barge with her shoulder. To her amazement the door moved. Gwen paused, and gingerly poked her head into the room, to her relief it was empty. She reached out and grasped Cyn's sweaty hand.

“In here, quick,” whispered Gwen.

Cyn shut the door behind her and leant heavily against it, she panted in lungfuls of dank air.

Cyn struggled to speak.

“Trap,” pause for breath, “we were” (puff) “set up, don't know how...”

Gwen nodded and peered around the dim room waiting for her eyes to accommodate to the gloom. She gazed intensely at one spot for several seconds, then she spoke in hushed tones.

“Cyn, what's that, over in the corner – there.” 

Gwen held up a shaky arm. Cyn's eyes followed the trembling appendage, and she drew in a sharp breath.

“That's a coffin, and we, Gwen, are in the wrong place.”

She reached out and gripped Gwen's unoccupied hand, hard. Slowly but surely she backed her friend up the steps. Her own free hand found the door pull. The door refused to budge. Cyn closed her eyes and concentrated. The door remained resistant.

“Who is that?” asked a shocked Gwen, her voice faltered, “What is that! Cyn, what the fuck is that?”

“That, is the reason we are here,” said Cyn quietly.

The apparition spoke.

“Remarkable Cyn, bravo. You are indeed a gifted human.”

The figure glided forward into the light. Cyn and Gwen gazed on it's form with widening eyes. A beautiful, dark haired Latino woman stood in the centre of the room. From the waist up, she was devastatingly attractive. From the waist down, a nightmare. Between her thighs a large fleshy organ writhed snake-like, and reared itself up into semi-erection.

“You are also an attractive human. Oh! Did your friend find her daughter?” the thing smiled deviously.

“She did, with you help I presume?” Cyn replied.

“Right again, once you found me, I could channel you so easily. Was your friend pleased?”

“You freak, you know what happened!” Cyn snapped.

“I do, why do you call me a freak? I am to be your lover, I can satisfy you both, as no human can!”

“Satisfy us, you keep away from us. You are not natural, come near me and I will puke.”

“Now, now. As the Bard tells us 'Now o'er the one half-world, Nature seems dead.” the thing said.

“What? Poetry?” Asked Cyn.

“Not poetry, Shakespeare. Lalo loves Shakespeare, and she, after all, is the force behind us all.”

“Who the hell is Lalo?”

“Human, you have much to learn. Let us begin.”

The apparition moved forwards, its fully erect clitoris swung heavily with each sure-footed step.

___________________________________________________________________

Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub June 2005
____________________________________________________________________
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my only
payment for my work.

Please address comments to yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or server,
other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION of the
author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story, provided the
warnings and copyright information is attached in full.

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