English Soil
Sitting in the airport lounge, in perhaps one of the most uncomfortable seats I'd ever sat in, I attempted to kill the time before my flight departed. I'd long since ditched the crossword book, completely unable to concentrate, and begun people watching while I sipped an espresso. There weren't many people buzzing around as I'd expected at two hours before dawn, it was only Shreveport Regional after all and not Manchester, where I was headed, but this would be the first flight home since I'd left the UK, and I was trying to keep my brain busy. Obviously deflecting the vampiric issues I currently had permeating around me and endeavouring to focus on the meeting I had arranged with the publishers, whilst battling the sadness I was feeling at the prospect of being back home.
I'd intended to visit my parents while I was here, so I'd rang them last night, only to be told by my mother that they were away at the Lakes for the week and that if I wanted to call on them then I shouldn't make plans so abruptly. She had a life to live, or so I was told. I guess retirement was a busy life. Nevertheless it meant I didn't have to undergo a strenuous reunion with my mother, but on the other hand, I wouldn't get to see my Dad either.
I glanced at the flight display; my gate had finally come up. I grabbed my hand luggage and trundled on down the walkways to the gate.
I stood patiently in line while the attendant checked my documents and eventually I boarded the plane, found my seat and was bound for the UK, with a brief stop in New York on the way.
Several hours later, after a pretty uneventful flight, aside from a brief panic I had at JFK airport when I thought I had mislaid my boarding pass, the plane touched down on English soil and I was home. I went through the usual rigmarole, through customs and what not, without any hassle and went on my way to collect my hire car. I'd arranged the meeting with my publishers for the evening I landed, and I received the battered rental with much disdain, mentally comparing it to Eric's immaculate corvette and headed for their offices in central Manchester.
After about 20 minutes actual driving and maybe a half hour of sitting in rush hour traffic, I eventually found an empty space in the car park and, once I'd straightened myself up I entered the office block of Nouvelle Publishing. With all the professionalism I could muster after my plane journey, I approached the reception desk, where a receptionist sat painting her nails. She didn't raise her head.
"Hello there," I said politely, "I have an appointment at 7.30."
She glanced upward and I hastily smothered a gasp. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes were tinged with pink, her teeth glistened, and I recognised her.
"Evelyn!" she beamed with what I could only describe as a sinister smile, as I noticed an empty bottle of Tru Blood in the waste basket, "I'd thought it might be you, But I'd heard you were in the States now, after Jack."
I smiled politely, "Well, gosh it certainly is a surprise to see you Emma. Oh I'm sorry about your uncle, I'm sure he'll be greatly missed," I skated over the subject of her being the first person from our little village in the suburbs of Manchester to become a vampire.
She beamed at me, "Well I'll give my family your wishes, thank you," she said and her intercom buzzed.
"If my seven thirty is here then please show her into my office," said a chilly, unwelcoming voice.
Emma Johnson rose from her seat and indicated I should follow her, which I did, and she showed me down a corridor with sleek modern fixtures and to an ominous door.
The meeting didn't take as long as I'd expected, in short they'd abruptly offered me a preliminary deal to publish my 'regular' work, their words not mine I may add, but the catch was I would have to research and write a vampire biography they were considering publishing into a collection series. They'd heard, god knew who from, that I was into the vampire underground in Shreveport and as such I would be the perfect choice of writer to pen the initial publication and perhaps even the series. The work came with a prestigious salary and a good portion of royalties, which was the main factor in my decision. I wondered who they'd found out about my vampire interest from, maybe I'd encountered some fangbanger in Fangtasia who worked for my publishers, maybe they'd seen me with Eric, who, truth be told, did seem to have a life vampire fanatics would love to read about. They were right, there was definitely a call for such a string of novels and yes, I admit, I was feeling quite proud and privileged to be asked to write them. But it wasn't until my arse was parked in a seat on the plane bound for Shreveport, after two days holed up in my hotel room and I'd accepted their offer, that the alarm bells started chiming in my head. Who would I start with? I only knew two vampires? How would I research without getting myself killed? Perhaps the better option would be to discuss this with Bill, if he'd survived Dallas. I'd heard on UK news in my hotel that there had been a demonstration by a suicide bomber in a vampire's home and though I feared the worst, I'd resisted calling either of them. Despite the fact that they inevitably must have been involved, neither Eric nor Bill had deigned it necessary for a quick call, or a text just to say they were ok, so for all I knew, I didn't know any vampires anymore at all.
"Evelyn, the captain requires your presence at the rear of the plane," a smooth voice disturbed me gently.
"Hmm, what?" I mumbled incoherently, shuffling in the seat. I opened groggy eyes to see Bill looking down on me. He was dressed bizarrely, albeit very smartly, in the airline uniform of the cabin crew.
"Please follow me," Bill's smooth drawl directed me out of my seat, bemused I quietly obeyed and he guided me through the rows of people and down the aisle to the rear of the plane, where he pulled a curtain to one side and ushered me in. Here, at the rear of the plane, was the area the crew used to prepare food and beverages for the flyers, and I stumbled forward towards a tall man, dressed in a uniform unlike Bill's, leaning against the bulkhead with his back to me. He wore black pants which hugged his tight ass with perfection, and a tight light blue-grey shirt which showed his rippling muscles beneath it. Atop his head sat an airline cap, covering blonde locks. He was flirting with an air hostess, a pretty blonde thing that I recognised vaguely. She had a gap between her front teeth and she played with her hair as she innocently conversed with the pilot, who obviously had intentions she was unaware of. Bill cleared his throat behind me, startling me of his proximity to me. The pilot glanced back towards us and I saw a face I began to recall, hidden behind aviator sunglasses. He returned to his air hostess and sent her on her way, before turning to face me. Bill remained close as the familiar pilot stepped forward, with a smile, and I felt a stir in my loins and tingles of swarming butterflies in my stomach.
He removed his glasses and I frowned, "Eric? What's going on? Why are you flying the plane?"
His hand moved to caress my shoulder, "Shh, lover, let this happen."
"Let what happen?" I said as I turned round to Bill for an answer, Bill stepped forward to me and I instinctively wavered backward into Eric, his slender fingers grasped my arms and he whispered in my ear, "You know you want this," as Bill removed the scarf encircling my neck.
I heard a snick as they drew down their fangs at the sight of my neck, and my heart raced. My blood pumped irrationally through my veins, responding to them and betrayed me to their mercy. Bill agonisingly removed my shirt, button by button, my bosom heaving heavily with each breath I took. Eric was pressing himself to me and I could hear the rumblings in his chest of an approving groan as my breasts were revealed, lace bra cast aside.
Bill toyed with my breasts, cupping them with his cool hands and rubbing his thumbs across my nipples, gaining staggered gasps from me with each caress. Eric's hands made their way south and pushed my jeans down over my hips with my panties, exposing me completely. He let the trousers fall to the floor for his fingers to begin their exploration of my folds. I gasped and leaned my head back to his chest as his fingers slipped easily inside me, pushing my chest out for Bill, beseeching him for more. Eric pulled his digits from my sodden depths and tweaked my clit, I moaned uncontrollably and Bill moved his attention to my lips. He kissed me deeply, catching my tongue on a fang, flooding my mouth with blood, as Eric's fingers, slick with my juices travelled between my buttocks, probing and finding my other entrance.
I withdrew from Bill's kiss, wide eyed, and he eyeballed me as Eric explored and stretched my small opening. The sensation was like no other I had ever felt, it felt wrong, but it felt very good indeed. Bill released himself from his pants and Eric snatched his fingers from me, moving his hand to my hip as his other travelled up my back to between my shoulders and gently pushed me forward. I knew what they were telling me to do, and I complied like an obedient whore. I grasped Bill's hips with my hand for support as I engulfed his cock with my lips and dutifully began sucking. Bill wound his hand into my hair and encouraged my movements, controlling me. Behind, I heard the tell tale click of a buckle being undone, then cool hands parted my buttocks, and I felt a familiar nudging at my entrance. I moaned as he teased me, pushing slightly forward into me then straight out again, teasing me, lubricating himself. Then I felt the nudging at my back passage, fear swamped over me and I tried to wretch back my head, but Bill held me firm as Eric positioned himself and pushed into me. It felt like I was being torn in two, the pressure was unbearable as he forced inch after inch into me, his hands holding my hips solid.
Tears in my eyes, I pleaded up at Bill, whose member I still had in the confines of my lips. He looked down on me darkly, with eyes that wouldn't betray him, and proceeded to fuck my mouth, controlling each movement. I finally felt Eric's hips against my buttocks, indicating I had taken him completely, I moaned and sobbed as he agonisingly began to withdraw, taunting my tortured flesh. Bill released my hair and I screamed as Eric drove it home and began a steady rhythm. The more he thrusted, the more ashamed I became as the feeling excited and my orgasm grew. Without warning I was lifted up, still impaled on Eric, and thrown atop him as he lay on the floor, Bill towered above me menacingly. He knelt down and positioned himself between my legs which Eric was unceremoniously holding open, my ass still filled. My breathing raced as Bill slid effortlessly inside my wet folds, and heat flooded my cheeks red with embarrassment, as I was completely filled.
They began pumping in time and I sobbed at the overwhelming sensations as I came over and over, wildly. Their pace quickened almost identically, their rhythm became erratic and mismatched. They exploded within seconds of each other deep within me and when they bit down cruelly simultaneously on either side of my neck, I yelped helplessly.
"Miss," a voice broke me from my slumber, "Miss, you need to wake up. The captain has put the seatbelt light on, we'll be landing in a few minutes." I rubbed my eyes and sat upright, bewildered.
Fucking dreams, I thought.