She wants the night
Some nights she couldn't tell if what happened was real. So many visions, so many feelings, confusion... A man comes into her room. He kisses her. She kisses him back and feels like she is falling into a spiral...of sex and darkness and passion. Sometimes it is Dracula, sometimes it is Lucifer, other times it's Ethan, sweet Ethan, her champion... sometimes it's Dorian... and when she wakes up she realizes it was just in her head and that none of it had happened.
That night was different though. Her secret shame, her hidden desire, her most intense, forbidden lust. Sir Malcolm enters her room...he smells of whiskey and cigars. He kisses her, his lips almost rude, their desire, intense. He takes her nightgown off and kisses her breasts, his lips open a trail of fire in her white, immaculate skin.
Then they are making love and she thinks she is going to die, the pleasure is so overwhelming. His hard, huge masculinity inside her... the liquid release...she screams and he puts his hands over her mouth to silence her, "they can't hear us Vanessa, they wouldn't understand"...
She lies in bed, almost defeated in her pleasure, guilt and satisfaction, and asks:
"Is this real?"
He smiles, leaves and gives her no answer.
She can still feel his lips, his smell, his weight over her.
The next morning she wakes up and finds a note on the nightstand.
"I shall be back tonight. And every other night.
M."
As Vanessa smiles, she counts the hours. It's still early. She wants the night.