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  1. More of my book

    I made the mistake of posting the best thing first, sigh. What I posted before was the closest I have to a sex scene, the rest are close but not quite, mostly just vampires feeding, like this one when my main character is turned...
    ----

    "Are you sure you don't want to come?" I asked my husband before giving him a kiss.


    "Yeah, you go. Have fun. I'll be fine," he replied after giving me a peck on the lips.


    I kissed him again, harder, taking the kiss I wanted. "I don't have to go. I can stay here."


    He started to put on his shoes. "No, you want to go, so go. I'll walk you out."


    Before leaving, I checked my hair and dress again in the mirror. While I normally kept my makeup honest, tonight I was wearing bright red lip stain. With my fashionable new black dress and impractical heels, I felt stylish. Even my hair had more bounce and body, the brown had a more tinge of red to it, than usual. I wished he was coming. I wanted to be on the arm of a sexy man tonight.


    We walked out to the car in silence. When he gave me another quick peck on the lips, I realized he was afraid of smudging my lipstick. "Have fun," he repeated.


    "I love you," I said as he walked away.


    "Love you too."


    In a pair of tennis shoes, I could've walked to the club with no trouble. Instead I drove for my own comfort. There were plenty of places in the parking garage.


    The Emcee, a friend of a friend, recognized me when I walked in. "Give her the member price," she said to the girl selling tickets. We made some light small talk before I wandered over to the only seat at the bar.


    There was a drink in front of me before I had even settled down. The bartender, the same one that served me every Monday night, My Bartender, smiled at me with warm recognition.


    "What's this?" I asked.


    "We got in a new scotch," he said.


    I took an experimental sip. It was caramelly and smooth. "This is good! What is it?"


    He showed me the bottle. Scapa. "It's distilled on a northern Scottish island."


    "Ooh, I like it even better," I said, and took another sip.


    The place was starting to fill up. The tables next to the stage filled up first, with people dragging fold up chairs over to crowd around the small round tabletops. The sounds of instruments being tuned and drums being moved from behind the curtain interrupted the din of conversation.


    My Bartender was starting to get busy as patrons were getting their first drinks of the night. Every once in a while, someone would approach the bar that I knew. They were all acquaintances, people I could exchange general niceties with, but wouldn't feel compelled to sit with. That made me happy, because I loved my exclusive seat at the bar. I also had a great view of the stage.


    And then he walked up. "Jameson, please," he asked my bartender.


    "Have you ever tried Scapa?" I asked, pointing at the bottle that the bartender still hadn't removed from the bar.


    "No, I don't think I have," he said. "I'll take one of those."


    "Straight?" asked My Bartender.


    "Is that how you're drinking it?" he asked me. I nodded and held up my glass.


    My Bartender poured him a glass and put the bottle back on the shelf, but not too far away. We toasted. The band came out and started to play.


    I tapped my foot and sang along when I knew the words. My husband's best friend had been in this band before he moved away, so I was familiar with a lot of the songs.


    "I like their sound," he said. "It's very original."


    "The singer's got a lot of passion. I think that's my favorite part," I replied.


    He stood next to me at the bar until intermission. The couple that had been sitting at the small table behind us paid their tab and left. "Would you like to move over to that table?" he asked.


    "Sure."


    My Bartender, the reason I loved that bar so much, brought the bottle over and refilled our glasses. He paid for my glass as well as his.


    I felt so relaxed in his company. Surely, we had never met before, but I felt like he could be a close friend. Maybe he could even be a lover, if I wasn't married. As the band played their second half, I started to reconsider the if-I-wasn't-married part.


    Our hands touched over the table, and neither of us moved away. After a few minutes of awkward immobility, he finally rested his hand on top of mine, essentially holding it. I fearfully realized that I was falling in love with him. He looked into my eyes. I loved him. I was no longer afraid. I looped my pinky around his.


    The band finished their second set and said their hellos as they passed me to refill their drinks. The crowd started paying their bills and filing out, even though the bar would be open for another hour yet.


    "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked.


    "Yes," I said, a little too eagerly.


    I had my too-high heels off as we stepped out the door. He had to lean down even farther to kiss me. He didn't seem to mind.


    Hand in hand, we walked down the trail that used to be railroad tracks. Time passed so quickly as we walked and talked that before long, we had reached the end of the trail. We continued on into the park and each took seats in a swing.


    At first, we just sat and talked, but before long, the compulsion overtook me and I started to swing higher. He matched me, and we swung until the chains went slack and our stomachs sank. We floated back to the ground laughing.


    Before my swing had stopped, he jumped out of his. I had never been good at that, so I dragged my feet over the gravel to slow my swing down. He grabbed the chains, making me swing right into him. With one fluid motion, his hands moved to my waist, and his lips to mine.


    As we kissed, he let my swing go. I stood up and left it behind.


    "I live not far from here," he said.


    "Okay," I answered his unasked question.


    His house felt familiar. It was small, yet stylishly decorated. It felt comfortable. He unlocked the door, and I drew him in for a kiss before he had the chance to swing it open. We stumbled into the house as one.


    Still in each other's embrace, he led me down the hall, past the stairs, and into the living room. We collapsed together onto a chaise lounge.


    Hungrily, his hands went up under my dress to my lower back. They were slightly cold on my skin, but it felt refreshing. I realized how flushed my skin was.


    In one smooth motion, he pulled his sweater, and the tshirt underneath off over his head. I rested my hands on the front of his cool trim chest. There wasn't much hair on his chest, but I liked the smoothness.


    He kissed me again, long, deep, and hard. I felt like I couldn't breathe, but it excited me. His excitement was obvious, and he seemed so hungry for my body. In my mind, I had already decided that I would give myself to him completely.


    His lips went from mine, down over my chin, and all over my neck. When his breath hit my ear, I shivered in ticklish delight. He nipped at the skin on my neck, and I giggled.


    It felt like we were going so fast, yet not fast enough. I yearned for him so bad. His teeth brushed the skin on my neck again, giving me a new round of goosebumps, and then his teeth sunk in.


    They were so sharp. There was pain at first, and I liked it. Like giving blood to the Red Cross, the pain dissapated quickly. I started feeling light headed. Where was I? I remembered going to the bar, The Shiny Flyers were playing, I sat at the bar. I think I moved to a table, but I can't remember why. No one I knew was there, just a few acquaintances, and I walked home alone. Didn't I? But I'm not home, I thought...


    Everything was getting so quiet. I was getting cold, but so sleepy...
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