HHHHHInterview with a Nazi Part 2.'
A/N: to Misuki Kitsune, better known as Emily Cotey, Karma is not dead, you will pay 40 fold for what you have done. I will make sure of it.
It was snowing the day that Rip returned to the Café. She shrugged off her coat and with the elegance of the true undead she threw it over her chair. Intricate snowflakes sprinkled her black hair with white, giving her a nymph like look. She was beautiful, there wasn't a flaw in her skin, and her eyes were a tantalizing hue of icy blue, matching the wonderful ankle length wool dress she wore. She ordered a hot drink and sat at the table with the reporter. Her hands were amazingly delicate, her fingers were long, slender and beautiful. Every movement she made was smooth and executed perfectly. The reporter began:
"I thought that vampires couldn't tolerate human fare?"
"We can't tolerate solid food very well, but most liquids we can, although they are not as nourishing."
"Can a vampire live on liquids alone? Other than blood?"
"no, they would most certainly die from the lack of nutrients, can man live on water alone?"
"Well I suppose if he must, he can."
"It's not the same with us." Rip said, a slight bit of annoyance locked within her voice.
"Would you care to begin Miss Rip?" he said, turning on the tape recorder.
"I suppose I shall." She replied, throwing her long limber leg over the other. " I believe I left off with the first rape. It occurred in the moving car, and I began to feel motion sickness. It didn't matter than we were out in the open, this man was determined to have his way, private or not, he didn't even bother to cover us, he just, well, he just went for it."
"Were you scared?" he asked, interrupting.
"I believe I was, any mortal or new vampire would be. My memory tricks me though, creates illusions, emotions no longer stand out, just the acts, the pain, the sounds and the words said."
"what was said to you?" the reporter asked.
"He actually didn't say much of anything, he was more or less, grunting, and moaning, I was so distraught by what was happening. I just stared at the trees, the bright sun, filtering through them like the grace of God, but then again, to a nazi and a vampire God is meaningless. you are told what to do and what to believe, and if you dare try to challenge that, you would be very sorry that you were ever born."
"Were you ever regretful that you were a nazi?"
"Yes, it was the bane of my existence, I hated it for so long." Rip turned to profile, her beautiful face showed psychological aging, she was young and angelic looking, in a sick sort of way, and she was a dark angel. "Then I had to learn to deal, and once I did life eased up, or should I say eternity eased up. I grew to block out the abuse the men had put me through, what they did to me, and my body."
"Now, don't take this offensively, but have you ever enjoyed sex with a man?"
"No, I have not." She replied stoically.
"Have you ever consented to sex with a man?" he tried.
"No, I have not." She again replied.
"How many times were you-" he started but was cut off.
"I don't even remember, too many." She hated that word, she hated hearing it, and she hated using it. It was an evil, taboo word. Rape. The word sent shudders through her, and made her want to vomit.
"How did you accustoms yourself to dealing with this sexual abuse?"
"I would sing to myself, hum, anything to take my mind off of what was happening, I would paint to distract myself, and I would put myself in a fantasy world."
"How often would you have to do this?" he asked.
"Too often, it robbed me of so many things, back then, it did so much damage." She murmured. Rip brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and pushed it behind her ear.
"What was it like being a Nazi?" he asked, many people in the Café turned their heads and stared at Rip, violating her with their eyes.
"Some of the questions are to personal and offensive to be answered here." Rip replied.
"Would you prefer my apartment? It's only a short walk from here." He asked her.
"That's fine." Rip riposted, she threw on her jacket, and they both left the coffeehouse. It only took about 5 minutes for them to walk to the apartment, The smell of cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air, it was fairly clean save the laundry sitting on the table and the cat sprawled out on the couch, glaring at Rip, silently telling her to leave.
"You can take a seat where ever." The pundit said, "I hope you don't mind if I smoke."
"Smoke doesn't bother me, I no longer breathe." Rip retorted. The man pulled out a pack of Salem Black Label's cigarettes. He lit one and inhaled sharply.
"Tell me more about you Rip, where did your name come from?"
"After the war, The mad Major had decided that I were to be 'enhanced'. I was forced into a twenty-year sleep. After I awoke, I was named Rip Van Winkle. I no longer remember my real name." The reporter inhaled on the cigarette, nicotine, and smoke filled the room. The cat meowed impatiently. Rip crossed her legs, revealing a beautiful alabaster color to her skin. He held back telling her how beautiful he thought she was. Rip caught his gaze as he stared at her legs, travelling upwards towards her chest, then her face, he stared her in the eye. " Am I the first female vampire that you've seen?" she asked, turning the tables and asking the questions. He put out the cigarette,
"Yes, actually you are." He replied. She had been aggravated at the questions that he had been asking her. She decided to be just as personal back.
"Have you ever seen a woman naked?" she inquired.
"Not one like you." He retorted.
"Would you like to?" she asked, handing the reporter the most wicked seductive look. She placed her chin on the back of her hand, and raised an eyebrow.
'Actually, I would like to very much." He replied, getting slightly giddy. Rip smirked, she stood up and shrugged off her over coat. Rip Van Winkle pulled down the zipper on her light blue dress and let the article slide from her body, revealing creamy shoulders. She wore a light blue lacy brassiere and matching panties. The dress hit the floor, and the reporter stared in awe of her perfect body. Her black hair lay akin in silky strands to her alabaster skin. The man stood up from the chair, opposite the couch. He looked her up and down, gazing at how beautiful she was. She was taller than he was. He placed his hands on her waist. "Do you…?" he asked. She only nodded. He placed a hand under her chin and kissed her, he wanted to be gentle with her. His other hand trailed to her back. His lips left hers to kiss the column of her throat. She gasped at the contact, no one had ever been this gentle with her. The man hooked his arms around her slender knees and carried her to the bedroom, kissing her the entire time. She knelt against him on the bed, pressing his head to kiss her stomach lightly. She threw her head back and moaned, he moved up to kiss her breasts.
"Are you sure that you want this?" he asked her.
"Yes, I do." She replied, in a low sultry growl. Kindly he laid her under him, her long hair lay under her, like an intricate spider web. Her lips were full and pouty, seductive. Her touch was gentle, her hands most elegant. He put himself between her long legs, resting his hips against hers. She couldn't help but buck forward instinctively, The reporter leaned back and unbuttoned his pants, and he pulled them off, and discarded them on the other side of the room. She bucked against him once more, he knew that she was enjoying this.
Rip had forgotten that she needn't breathe, her body was slicked with a thin layer of sweat as the reporter lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply on the filter. She sat up clutching the sheet to her chest, she had a bit of a dazed look on her face. "Maybe we should get back to the interview." He said blowing out a long puff of smoke.
"That meant nothing to you didn't it." Rip replied with a solemn tone.
End Chapter 2.
More to come soon, I pray, but till then this will have to do, I am currently very busy with a lot of shit. You all can blame Misuki Kitsune for it, she has caused enough problems, threatening to kill my friends unborn baby, and telling me that Karma is dead, and that I'm gay, and just spreading lies about me to people. She can fuck off and die. Eventually I will write her character into one of the stories and horribly mutilate her. She is nothing but a succubus on society.
I have many people who agree with me.
Karma lives, you reap what you sow, or steal in her case.
If my writing has suffered, you can blame her for the fucking stress and gray hair she has caused. I apologize because she is incapable of human emotion.
Rip Van Winkle.