Okay, this is based on VtM: Bloodlines. I know nothing about Santa Monica, California other than what was portrayed in the game. And I don't own any of the stuff aside from the words themselves and possibly the narrator's soul. Gonna warn you right now: there's a teensy bit of lesbian loving going on. You have been warned.
Chapter One: Mad Stranger
It was raining again. Seemed like it was always raining in this place. The light shower cascaded from the roof of the parking garage, causing a sheet of water to act as a curtain over the entrance. Everything smelled fresh, like the water was cleaning the degraded revulsion from the skin of the city...making it a purer form of itself. But I knew it wouldn't...couldn't...last. The rain would die in the morning and Santa Monica would fall back into the spiral of Hell as the thieves, the dealers, and the bloodthirsty came back out to play in the puddles.
But for now, standing out of the rain and watching the grime and oil wash into the gutters, a girl could dream...
"...mmm."
...until the sound of a person shuffling up behind me caught my attention and suddenly, I was back at work. I mentally sighed and turned from the rainy boulevard to set my eyes upon a taller woman with a thin frame, wearing not much more than myself.
"Hey, honey," I said, "Lookin' for a date?"
She had thick lips and dark brown hair that bobbed when she moved and skin that...well...could have stood a few hours tanning on the beach, if you asked me, but she wasn't all that unappealing, not at all. Hell, not like some people. Some nights, there were just people that I couldn't stand to have touch me.
Her eyes were something else, though. There was something really wild about them. They were staring off into space, those eyes, while at the same time trying to focus on me and everything around us in the garage and out on the street just inches away... She was either insane or stoned out of her mind.
She asked how much it would cost. At least, I think she did. The way she talked...it was as crazy as her eyes were.
"I don't get to do women very often," I said, "'specially ones as cute as you...how's 40 sound?"
Was I feeling generous or was it something else? Those eyes...goddamn. In any case, the woman nodded at the offered price and reached into the waistband of her short cotton skirt, producing a tattered leather wallet that had been tucked just underneath. How did it manage to hold any money at all? Maybe it was stronger than it looked. After all, there was a Hell of a lot more than just 40 bucks in that thing.
"But don't go telling your friends, okay? A girl's got to make a living."
It occurred to me that maybe I should have made her pay full price after all, but the thought faded away almost as quickly as it came as she took my hand and lead me away. I thought she might take me back into the parking garage for something quick and dirty, but instead I was pulled out into the warm, rainy street. It didn't feel nearly as soul-cleansing as it had looked; the water had to fall through the layers and layers of thick pollution before reaching everything below, causing every raindrop to be full of something thoroughly grimy and unpleasant. Thick, slimy grease smeared its way into my hair, onto my bare shoulders and everything else.
"We're going someplace dry, right sweetheart?" I tried to keep my voice as alluring as possible.
She nodded, whispered, "The sky cries poison..." and pulled me towards the alleyway behind Trip's Pawnshop. I gave an inward cringe. There was a handful of apartments above the shop: nasty, bug-infested places. It pretty much confirmed the theory that she was a crackhead; they were a festering shithole, perfect for people on the pipe.
But money was money and the girl was pretty hot, for a pale chick. Her hands were cold, but I figured it was because of the weather.
"The little fly's haven..." She turned and smiled a broad, peculiar smile before pulling me into the building and up the stairs towards her place.
"Sure, cutie, whatever you say." I replied with a smirk, allowing myself to be dragged along behind.
--
The apartment itself was everything I'd come to expect from Trip's apartments. One room, a broken bed in the corner by the door–the semen, piss, blood-stained mattress sloping from the tarnished brass bedframe, a kitchen with missing cabinet doors and filthy counters covered in pizza and buzzing flies, the grungy bathroom likewise missing its door and wafting a smell of faded shit into the rest of the apartment. An amazing amount of self-control kept me from spewing on the spot as she closed and locked the door behind us.
I went and sat on the bed, having gotten accustomed to this sort of nasty stuff a long time ago, crossed my legs and smiled up at my John (Jane?) for the evening.
"Alright...show me what you got..."
She leaned over me, hands on the mattress, resting on either side of me as she leaned forward to push me back.
"With relish..."
She brushed against my lips with hers and ran her mouth across my jawline in short pecks, once in awhile nipping lightly at my skin, causing a gentle, electric shiver to shoot through my skin each time.
"...and mustard." The words were whispered so softly that I almost didn't hear her at all, but the meaning, if there was any, was lost on me anyway.
Her hands were still resting on the bed, having not moved themselves to a more appealing spot just yet. I reached my own up to rest against her, but she grabbed my wrists and held them down against my sides with just enough force to be restraining. God were those hands cold... I was bound and determined to warm them up.
I whimpered and allowed my neck a slight arch when her lips found the tender skin from my jawline down to my throat. She kissed it, ran her tongue just over the air above the skin...teasing. When I began to shiver and whine, my eyelids drooping down, I felt a momentary stab of pain and an alarm went off somewhere in the back of my head..
"Hey, sweetheart..." My voice was sharp, irritated, "I don't think forty bucks is really enough for me to let—ooh...oh." The pain was gone, replaced by a sensation so...impossible to describe. It was like an orgasm and the best drug all at once, but one not drowning out the other. I had no idea what the fuck this crackhead woman was doing, but my God...she'd better keep doing it. My eyes closed completely as everything in my body relaxed, a heat building up between my thighs. My voice was a severe whimper as I begged for release, "Please..."
She moved her lips from the skin at my throat, her tongue running lightly along my flesh and back to my jawline, to my earlobe. She nipped at it.
"Why do you sell your honey, little bee?" Her voice was a purr against my ear. My eyelids fluttered gently; I leaned my head against hers. The heat was still there, unsatiated, pleading. I squirmed. Her hands finally released my wrists, coming up to stroke my short bob of brown hair. I was silent. "Trust me."
Trust her? Yes. Yes, I could trust her. There was no reason not to trust this beautiful creature laying against me. Was there?
"It's good money. It...I can live alright on it. And it's easy."
"Easy." Her voice was flat and detached, "Your larvae don't think so, do they, little bee?"
Larvae...?
Momma, where're you going?
Who's that man, Momma?
Why's he touchin' you like that?
I don't like it.
Momma, please stay home tonight. It's scary.
I clinched my eyes shut and looked away. There was an almost satisfied expression on the woman's face. But how could she know?
"Who the fuck are you?" My voice was heavy with suppressed tears. She leaned down to gently force my face back towards hers, planting a kiss on my lips.
"Just a little fly on the wall of your beehive."
She moved away and helped me up from the bed, her hand roving through my hair again before gesturing towards the bathroom.
"Clean the poison from your body and go home to your brood."
"Will I..." Would I see her tomorrow?
"Go."
Dizzy, lost, confused...I gave her a second look before going into the bathroom to shower.