I Call to the Abyss

The club was crowded and smoky, with a techno bassline blaring from speakers at decibel levels that would shame a jet. Not my kind of place, but then again, what was my kind of place? Jaded beyond my years, I had seen pretty much all this wretched city had to offer. This smoky club, reeking of Mary Jane, was my last stop in this town. Frankly, I was ready to move on, but I never left anything unsampled if I could help it. Life was short and there was no excuse for missed opportunities.

The place was a Goth hangout. Teenyboppers in ragged black dresses and too much white makeup. Effeminate guys who worked harder on their heroine addict looks than the vainest of super models. Same cheap thrills I saw in most of these places, cutting each other with tiny knives to drink blood. I had graduated from this scene well before most of these kids had discovered what an orgasm was.

I'm only twenty-one, but hanging out around these kids made me feel old. Hell, the place didn't even have a drinks license. I rose and headed towards the door as the music faded and the buzz of fifty conversations became audible in my ringing ears.

"Leaving so soon?" a voice purred in my ear.

I whipped around, expecting to find a kid and give her what for. Instead I found myself frozen, trapped in an invisible grip that was stronger than steel.

She was five four and wore a purple leather dress that was so tight it left virtually nothing to the imagination. Long black hair framed an angular face with black eyes and full pouty lips. Her face was pale and gaunt, but unearthly in its beauty. Blood red lips and inch long blood red nails were the only colour besides black, pale white and deep purple. She had wide hips and heavy breasts, well proportioned but still too much for her slight frame. I tried to speak, but I couldn't. She seemed to know that and flashed a smile that revealed perfect white teeth.

"If you don't like it here, why not come with me? I'm going somewhere with a scene that I promise, you haven't seen before," she purred.

I found myself nodding and dumbly following to her car. The ride was a blur, my eyes were drawn to her tits, and nothing I did allowed me to tear my gaze away from them. They looked so soft and full and I couldn't help but imagine how they would feel. I felt a little electric thrill each time she hit a bump and they bounced and jiggled under the tight purple leather of her strapless dress. No way she was wearing a bra with that kind of movement.

I fought with every ounce of willpower I had to tear my eyes from her, but it was a losing effort. I'm jaded, but I'm not gay or even bi. So my fascination with her bust was as disconcerting to me as my inability to look at anything else. I felt an overwhelming desire to take one of her nipples in my mouth and it was almost physically painful to fight back the urge.

The car stopped in a really rundown area of the old town and my guide got out. I quickly followed her down a stairway to a small landing. I felt like a puppy running to keep up with its mistress and the woman seemed to be paying me no mind at all, as if she knew I would follow.

Two large bouncers stood at the door. They were physically impressive, but what chilled me was their eyes. They were blank; not blank like drugged or even insane, but blank as if looking into the broken windows of an old house. As if there was no mind behind them, only some nebulous controlling power. My guide breezed past them and I followed into the dark, smoky confines of a basement club. They were typical here, in the heart of the old city. Some had probably been around back when Napoleon was at the gates. This one seemed to ooze an aura of ancient decay. My guide wove effortlessly through the crowd and I followed. She stopped and took a seat at a table, which rested at the foot of a small stage.

It was a big table, but all the chairs were taken. I turned to search for an empty seat, but the girl pulled her chair out and patted her lap. Despite my best efforts to resist her invitation, I instantly seated myself in her lap, and her arms slipped around my waist. I felt my breath catch in my throat and blood rush to my centre; a minor contraction of the muscles deep inside told me I was about to cum. My nipples were straining against my bra and my back arched slightly. Somehow I managed to get a hold of myself and no one at the table seemed to notice.

There were ten other couples at the table and let me tell you, they all gave me the creeps. Men in diner jackets that went out of style two hundred years ago and women who wore too much makeup and tittered among themselves. And with each of the scary ones there were people like me. Modern fashion, dazed, almost drugged out looks, but not quite drugged. More like obsessed.

One in particular caught my eye. He was a young guy who sat next to one of the older men. He seemed normal, but his eyes were riveted on the man next to him and his face showed an almost trancelike infatuation. It unnerved me to realize I probably had the same look on my face. What really unnerved me was the way he was dressed. College kid; footballer's jersey, barbed wire tattoo around his bicep. He just didn't look like a queer and I kept wondering if he was fighting the same strange feelings that I was feeling for my guide.

The house lights came down and a single spotlight fell on the stage. A young woman was led out by two robed figures. Her face was blank and she moved with the jerky motions of someone who was heavily drugged. She was tied to the pole in the middle of the stage and the hooded figures withdrew. The girl's face was totally blank, as if she was lost or something. She was young. Maybe in her early twenties, but maybe a little older. It's so hard to tell with pros. I mean, she didn't look like a pro, but I figured anyone doing a stage routine in this place had to be. Unless it was one of those weird clubs where blokes brought their wives to show them off or something.

Conversation in the place dried up and all eyes seemed to be on the stage. I tried to look away, but my guide stroked my cheek and pointed to the stage. I was compelled to watch by that same nameless force that had held my eyes to her tits on the ride over.

I should have been freaking out, but for some reason I was totally calm. The robed figures returned to the stage and stripped the girl's dress off, leaving her back and ass turned to the club. A new figure, big and powerfully built, appeared and the two smaller robed figures departed.

When he took a mean looking cat-o-nine-tails out from under his robes I relaxed a bit. S&M club then. No biggie. I'd seen a hundred of these shows. They didn't do much for me, but some people got off on the fantasy whipping thing. So be it. To me, they always seemed hokey, but you could never really get into someone's head and see the fantasy from the perspective of someone who it was major jerk off material for. Whatever floats your boat. That's always been my motto anyway.

When the robbed figure drew back and hit her with the first stroke, my whole opinion changed. He drew blood. Real blood too. Not the glitzy fake stuff. And as he continued it got worse and worse. The girl never screamed or moaned or anything, she just shivered and shuddered, like the pain was giving her multiple orgasms or something.

I'm jaded, but I can still be shocked and this was doing it. Too heavy for me. I tried to get up, but my guide's hands were still around my waist and for all the good it did trying to rise I might as well have been strapped to the chair. When the robed figure's arm came back the next time, it sent a spatter of blood droplets behind him. I saw one land on the pristine white table cloth and slowly soak in. When I looked up, I wished to a god I didn't believe in I hadn't.

That spatter of blood had wrought an incredible change in the people at the table. Several of them now had red eyes. I don't mean red like bloodshot, I mean glowing red, like animals. Mouths were now massive maws filled with shining fangs, or delicate smiles with just two elongated canine teeth, or...God.

The older gent turned and practically bit the jock's neck in half. Blood geysered up and the guy...I swear the look on his face was pure ecstasy. All around the club arteries were opened and veins ripped. Most of the victims made no sound. Of those who did, some screamed in terror, some in pain, others in ecstasy, but their cries were lost in the howls of bestial pleasure and the insanely loud slurping noises.

Food. We were just food. All of us. Bound in chains tighter than steel and dragged into this pit to serve as dinner for creatures right out of myth. I waited my turn, not scared, not even apprehensive, just calm. I found myself wondering if it would be pleasure or pain my guide would bring me. I had wanted to try it all, but in this last few moments I wondered if I would experience pleasure unendurable as the jock obviously had or agony beyond description as the girl on stage was feeling while thirty people literally ate her alive.

For over an hour I watched bloody horror after bloody horror as the people around me all met grisly demises. My guide moved only once, when a haggard old crone with dripping fangs finished her boy toy and made a move towards me. My guide's delicate hand shot out and sent her flying across the room.

I thought she would come back, but she moved groggily and then fell upon some other victim who was still writhing in her lover's final embrace.

As they ran out of victims, they fell upon each other, the strong overpowering the weak or several weaker ones overwhelming the strong. They showed no more mercy to their own kind than they had to mine and soon the room smelled of blood and death and decay.

My guide rose then, throwing me over her shoulder like a sack of grain and gliding effortlessly through the seething chaos and out the doors. Once back in the car, my eyes were again glued to her breasts and I wanted them. Wanted to taste them as I had never wanted anything before in my life.

She finally stopped the car and got out and I followed. She had driven to the cliffs and below us I could hear the sea crashing. She walked to the edge and I followed. In one motion she grabbed the front of my dress and held me out over the abyss. I could hear the waves crashing on the rocks far below.

I could move again and I grabbed her delicate wrist and held on for dear life. She looked at me. Cocked her head and smiled curiously. She then pulled me back from the yawning blackness.

She drove me back into town and stopped before the hostel where I was staying. I wanted to jump out, I wanted to run, but more than anything I wanted to know just what in the hell was going on. When I didn't bolt, she smiled again and finally spoke.

"You have questions little one and a decision to make. I will answer those I can, but be quick as my time grows very short."

"Who are you?" I blurted out, happy to see my tongue seemed to be working at my command again.

"You may call me Liva. I was created in Rome, two hundred years before the birth of your Christ and with care, I shall never die."

"You're a vampire?"

"If you like. I am kindred, which is the name we use among ourselves. But vampire will suffice for tonight."

This was too weird. Too out there. I was just dumbstruck. Apparently she was impatient as my lack of further questions caused her to begin speaking again.

"What you saw tonight, happens every night, somewhere in the world. We are legion and we must feed to survive."

"You really drink blood? I mean, that wasn't just for show back there. Was it?"

She laughed then, a soft, gentle, musical sound.

"Already your conscious mind is trying to rationalize what you saw. If I leave you alone, in a few days time you will have convinced yourself it was all a dream. Thus we are protected, for only those not quite sane can grasp the reality and not wish it away."

"It was real. You do drink blood."

"Ah, the blood. The question of it haunts us. Our philosophers and scientists try to determine if it's the blood we need or some other force we distill from our victims. For your sake, the blood is a sufficient answer. So yes, we drink the blood of a living host to survive."

"Why am I still alive?"

"You called to me. So I came. My home is far from here, but I made the journey because you called."

"Called?"

She was looking at me, but she seemed to be looking past me. Not at something outside the car, but I had the strange feeling she was looking back through time.

"In my whole unlife I have had but three lovers. One died in the earthquake at Lisbon, when a giant wave destroyed her haven. One died the final death in the great London fire. One was taken from me by an elder for some imagined affront and set against me. I killed her with my bare hands and some decades later drank his very essence, destroying him utterly."

Her eyes grew less dreamy and she smiled.

"Ancient history. My kind take many lovers down though the long lonely years. What becomes of them depends on their regent. Some join us, some are cast aside, some become a meal. How one chooses her lovers has much to do with it. I only take those who call to the void."

"Call to the void?"

"Yes. You call to the void. Every night as you put on your clothes and prepare to further debauch yourself. But unlike the coward, you don't call to the void for release; you call so that you may suck its very blackness to the bitter dregs. For those of my line, such calls are clarion, and we seek to embrace those with such an...appetite."

"So you don't intend to eat me, right?"

She laughed again and gently traced her finger along my thigh. I felt a stab of excitement that started in my pussy and shot outwards to explode in my head.

"Modern slang is so hard for me to keep up with. But yes, I intend to eat you, many times over, but I have no plans of making a meal out of you, if that's what you are asking."

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. It had been a long, long time since anyone made me blush, but her little play on words did the trick.

I intended to ask more, but she glanced at the luminous dial on her watch and made a clucking sound in her throat.

"The sun rises far too soon this day. So now you must choose."

"Choose?"

"Yes. Choose. You can continue as you are, growing older and finding less and less pleasure in each experience as your senses dull or..."

"Or?"

"Or, you may become my love and have all eternity to experience, but if you choose, some delights you will never know again."

"Like what?"

"You may never again watch the sun rise, or feel the wind on your face on a warm summer's day. You will belong to the night."

"I hate days anyway."

"There are others, but I haven't time left. You must choose, and choose quickly."

Some proposition this was. I didn't have to think too long, though. Eternal life in exchange for having to drink blood and wear a pussy mustache? I could cope with that.

"I'll come with you."

She nodded, put the car in gear and drove us to a fine hotel. Our room was huge, but one of those interior rooms with faux windows and a painted on view.

"I must sleep now. You may sleep here on the sofa, or watch the TV or do what you will, but do not, under any circumstances, try to enter my room. There are wards placed there that would utterly consume you."

She was gone before I could say a word and I was left standing in this huge room. I curled up on the sofa and tried to sleep, but it was a long time in coming.

When I woke Liva was sitting next to me on the sofa. She wasn't moving, except for her hand, which was gently tracing over my tummy. Her eyes had that faraway quality I had noticed before, like she wasn't really there with me, but had traveled far back in time to another setting and perhaps another lover.

Her hand on my stomach wasn't exactly sexual, but it had a sensuous, highly erotic quality that I couldn't explain, but could certainly feel. I had begun to notice this about her, her every movement was sensual, languid and full of promise. It wasn't the calculated, in your face sexuality of a stripper nor even the eroticism of a graceful woman. It was almost as she were cloaked in a kind of subtle sensuality, that never left her, from her movements to her words.

She had shed the provocative dress and wore only a filmy white negligee and a robe of some gossamer material that appeared white, but shimmered when she moved. It gave her an ethereal quality and made her dark hair and eyes stand out in even greater relief.

Like I said before, I'm not into girls. Not that I have a problem with it, I mean, my best friend was a lezzie. It just never did anything for me when I had tried it. Liva was different though, she was..attractive, desirable, fascinating...I don't know...something.

"Are you ready?' she whispered, the very words setting my blood on fire.

"Yessss," I moaned.

Liva leaned down and pressed her lips to mine and I got the first of many surprises that fateful evening. I expected them to be cold, you know, the living dead and all that. Instead they were warm and soft.

She kissed me gently, in a way no other lover ever had. Her tongue didn't demand entry to my mouth, in fact, she didn't even use it. She just kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids, even the tip of my nose. She moved to my chin and my neck just below it, all the way down to the hollow between my collar bones. By the time she returned to my lips they parted on their own, with no coaxing.

I wanted her tongue, to taste her mouth, I wanted to lose myself in her. I wanted her more than any man I had ever dreamed of, including childhood crushes and boyband singers. I had never experienced such all consuming desire before in my life.

Now I've tried coke and smack, horse, crank, amphetamines, X, you name it. I've sampled every drink known to man, from pink panty pull downs to sex on the beach. High stakes poker, skydiving, bungee jumping, the whole gamut of adrenaline fixes. And I've had sex, everywhere, in every conceivable position. In a car, in a churchyard at midnight, on the stage at a sex club. I've sucked cock, had it up my arse, two blokes at once, orgies where nothing was out of bounds.

But when she kissed me, every experience in my jaded lifetime became as pale and mundane as taking a piss. It just blew me away, the way self-styled studs promised sex with them would and addicts promised their drug would, and adrenaline junkies promised the rush would. For the first time in my life, something lived up to the promise.

She tasted of cinnamon and almonds. My tongue searched her mouth, finding any of the sweetness and longing for more. She seemed content to let me kiss her for a while, but when she decided to take the active role, she did so with ease. Her hands slipped to my breasts, sending an electric shock through me that temporarily stilled my tongue. She took advantage of my gasp to push her long, agile tongue into my mouth. I sucked greedily on it as she leisurely explored my mouth. Her hands were gently squeezing my tender breasts and for some reason the sensation was many times greater than I was used to.

My back arched and it became hard to breath. Tingles, twinges in my deep muscles, thrills down my spine. The kind of sensations I associated with the later stages of getting laid, but had never experienced from foreplay, much less a kiss. Her hand travelled down my body, pushing my skirt up and with incredible power ripping my panties off. Her finger touched my clitoral hood, making tiny circles that seemed to be timed with her hand on my breast and her tongue on mine.

Time seemed to have warped, in my excited state things became disjointed, punctuated by shivers of pleasure and shocks. My orgasm hit without the usual warnings. One moment I was moaning into her mouth, the next my head exploded. My mind seemed to fragment, flying off in a thousand different directions as the muscles in my pussy contracted violently and every nerve screamed in bliss that was so profound it approached agony.