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October 03, 2022

The Building 19

By Lydia Manx

Tricia Sanborn, which probably wasn't her original name, lived in a small house just off Hillsboro in Deerfield Beach. The barrier island wasn't more than a few miles in either direction and could only be reached by going across one of the three drawbridges or the Atlantic Ocean. At first Jerry'd been hesitant to keep Tricia as a donor because of the manned drawbridges. He knew the human element screwed up more vampires than cameras and recording devices. People were curious creatures and they gossiped about who and what they saw constantly. Jerry took care to keep his visits casual and not with any set pattern. The timing of the drawbridges was always considered and he didn't come and go the same way each time. In the two years that he'd been going over to the island and visiting Tricia, he didn't think that he had been there more than a dozen or so times.

He never called to see if she was home because she spurned cell phones and rarely answered her landline. She was paranoid and cautious beyond the normal human being's nature due to her rather colorful job. During the day hours she took a shift or two at one of the half-dozen or so local bars where she collected data for her true calling: cleaning out accounts of tourists and the occasional local that under-tipped. She wasn't suspected in any of the unsolved thefts, which amused Jerry. Her bubble gum snapping, light-hearted nature made everyone think she was a defenseless little sex kitten with a hidden sugar daddy. The gossip about her was epic and constant.

Jerry took care to keep out of sight whenever he popped into see her. He didn't want to be added to the coconut telegraph that made up the tight knit community. Tricia was known to take off for weeks at a time -- the rumors put it down to her being with a mobster lover or married man with a shady past. Nobody ever saw her with anyone so the tales grew with each telling. She didn't discourage it or in any way do anything to even acknowledge that anyone gave a damn who or what she did.

Her solitary nature suited Jerry Cooper perfectly.

The Master Vampire didn't like to share his humans with others and from everything he knew about Tricia, she didn't share her life with anyone. Her secretive nature was entirely due to her trying to amass a fortune before she turned thirty so she could retire down the coast to a small island or country with a limited population. She didn't care what anyone said about her because she was focused on making sure she never had to slave away until she died at her desk like her father had. Tricia was a rarity in her age group -- she was single-minded in her goals, and wasn't going to let anyone or anything stand in her way. At least that's what she thought. Jerry'd been feeding those goals with his vampiric skills while trying to figure out how to get to her money once he finally killed her. Even in her head she hid that information from him and in turn herself. Her paranoia was strongly wired into her petite frame. He could have completely mind-raped her and found out all her secrets, but then he would have had to kill her. He wasn't ready to give up the fears he drank from her along with the sips of blood. She was riddled with anger and fear that made her blood rich and tasty.

Once he parked his car a few blocks away from her home, he walked casually to the street behind where she lived. He went through the meandering walkways of the townhouses that were lined up with her backyard and walked purposefully as if he belonged there, and faded into the shadows and bushes that covered the fence between the properties. There weren't any heartbeats quickening or sudden intake of breath from humans in the immediate area so he knew he hadn't been spotted. That wasn't always the case when he came to see Tricia.

More than once he had to drain the thoughts from a drug-addled human that had been surreptitiously smoking a joint, or doing a line of cocaine on the top of the barbecue cover in the common area shared by the tenants of the complex. That met his needs, too, and kept his visiting of Tricia out of the local gossip loop. Jerry found the back of her house lit. It wasn't until he was nearly to the property line that he ever knew if she was even home. In the back of the adjoining yard behind her house he could see the bathroom was lit as well as her second bedroom that she used as an office. From the front, he knew from the past when he drove by, that the blinds and curtains would be shut tight allowing no light to flow out from the house. She liked her privacy and protected it fiercely. The fence was old and not very steady, but Jerry easily popped over the structure. The brambles and vines that overgrew the rotting wooden slats made it a precarious operation but he'd done it often enough to know the best places to get a hand hold. There were the prerequisite palm trees and lush large ferns that seemed to make up much of the landscaping in Florida. Tricia added a few low-tech traps for the unwary. There were scattered rocks in the planters that would twist an ankle or cause an intruder to stumble.

She also had a few motion detection devices that Jerry knew how to avoid. The first time he'd visited Tricia, it had been through the front door and he'd found out about the security she had in place before he'd left. Once he was on the back porch, he reached above the door and found the key he'd put there years ago on the top of the trim. Tricia had been unconscious when Jerry had removed her key from her key ring and had a duplicate made. Thankfully Home Depot kept late hours for those toiling on household chores after hours. She never knew she'd given up the key much less that there was a copy sitting outside her back door. Her alarm code was easily extracted from her brain, because she hated having to code in and out of her own home; she'd simply used the keypad to spell 'fuck you.'

He pushed the appropriate corresponding numbers while smiling. She was probably plugged into her computer, downloading someone's life, unaware he was inside. Her alarm had only blared once in the all times he'd been coming over unannounced and he'd taken a few hours to help her forget that evening. He'd also created an image in her mind that she was fantasizing about him whenever she did find him in her house. The depth of her imagination helped her hacking skills, and also made her susceptible to his skills.

She was staring intently at her monitor with her nose no more than four inches from the glowing screen. Some loud heavy rock was playing on her sound system with a deep bass thumping along with her keystrokes. She cursed like a merchant marine.

"Motherfucker! You whore. Like that will keep me from emptying your account. Fuck wad." Still muttering she pounded her keyboard harder and with flying fingers.

She stopped, and slowly turned, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eyes. Tricia continued her tirade, "No, fucking way. I don't have time to dream about your ass again. I need to crack this jerk's bank account in the next ten minutes or I'll lose my window and be shut out of a million bucks. I can masturbate about your cock later."

Jerry really wanted to wash her mouth out with lye soap and dress her more appropriately. Her taste in clothes was nearly as foul as her language. Her current attire was limited. She had on a black tank top that showcased her large man-made figure and skimpy white shorts. He stepped slowly closer while staring deeply into her eyes, which were locked with his. She automatically began stripping down to her white lacey thong. He'd never figured out why she stripped every time he came through the door. He never touched her sexually. He wanted her mind and her blood, not her body. Humans held no attraction for him. The idea of having sex with his food disgusted him. If he'd chosen her for a fledgling, he would have had a minion break her in first. In Michigan he'd had a few vampires who loved playing with their food before feasting, but it revolted him on so many levels. He wanted fears, tears, and blood, not their human bodies. Once she was a vampire that was another matter, but not having minion to help with the process he wasn't going to turn her any time soon. She was strong-willed and wanted to be taken hard and fast. Had he tried to turn her on his own he would have had to deal with her desires and cravings.

She stood and let the clothing fall to the floor while licking her lips and chewing softly on her bottom lip. Dipping her thumb down to her brief thong she said, "Well, hell, what's another million dollars? I am so fucking wet I need to get off."

Jerry spoke commandingly, "Stop. Finish the transaction. You can pleasure yourself later. You need to get the money in your offshore account before it's gone."

"Hell, no. You're my fantasy, I wanna get you in me first. I can get money later. Come ride me." She ran her other hand up her rather large breasts and tugged on a nipple while her other hand was dipping lower and ominously deeper inside her small thong, "Put your dick in me, baby."

He was appalled. He didn't think it had been that long since he'd fed off her but he lost track of time easily. Months slid into years so quickly. From her behavior his last visit had been quite a while ago. Her sexual nature was what she used to combat her fears. He wanted to drink her fears not her body. She was working herself into a state of arousal he could smell and nearly taste. It made him mad that he'd lost track of Tricia for so long. She stepped closer and began rubbing up against him in a sensual manner of a seasoned stripper.

She began softly moaning and working herself over him like a pro. His fangs slid out and he tilted back her head to give him access to her neck. Wasting no time, he pushed his fangs into her throat and she groaned and began panting.

Horrified, he pushed quickly into her mind and began soothing and tormenting her fears. He wanted her in a far different way. She stopped gyrating and trying to get off on him and instead began moaning in an entirely different manner. Tears came from her eyes and she sobbed while feeding him deeper and deeper. He pierced her mind and tortured her memories. She'd been a very busy girl, emptying bank accounts all over the state and had neglected her physical side. The end result was her neediness and lack of control. As he went further inside her thoughts, he found she was happy to see him to give her an excuse to masturbate. He hadn't realized that she saved herself for him until then. Given her job and foul mouth he'd decided that she was a sexual creature when he wasn't around, with the normal lack of morals like those of her peers. He'd been wrong. She clung to him, panting more deeply and crying softly while he sucked in the pain and pleasure of her need. He found himself distracted by her and impatiently tried to erase the sexual wants. Her mind pushed him out and she began to whimper.

Article © Lydia Manx. All rights reserved.
Published on 2011-06-13
Image(s) © Lydia Manx and Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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