Suggested Audio Candy

 

Daryl Hall & John Oates “Maneater”

 

 

 

 

It had been several days since Delilah had been bitten. Some call it the perils of your job but having some lecherous dead beat with an abnormally hairy back take a hunk from your shoulder-blade was not in the hooker’s training manual. She abhorred being labeled a hooker and preferred the term ‘sexual service provider’ as she provided an invaluable opportunity for business men to get their kicks when away on lengthy pilgrimages. Her clientele were all screened beforehand which made it all the more discombobulating being set upon in the manner she had.

His incisors had left severe punctures which no amount of cover-up would mask and the area had begun to get infected, despite her rigorously cleansing the wound. Moreover, it ached like hell. A concoction of painkillers and cheap vodka had dealt with the lion’s share of discomfort but still it persisted nagging and appeared to be worsening as days passed. She had considered seeking a medical opinion but health care was just so darned costly and, besides, she was still $5K short of the boob job she’d been promising herself for the last year.

Delilah was a strong believer in the sensual connotations around possessing seventies bush and, aside from a little trim down bi-weekly, she allowed her pubic garden to become somewhat overgrown. In seven days she had accumulated enough unruly fluff to fashion a furry handbag and it was time to strim or die. As she sat perched on the side of her bath with mirror positioned precariously, she set to work on the beast with two lips and the offshoots alone resembled the floor of an Amish barbers.

Last night she blacked out. The last thing she remembered was taking a load to the face and being more than a little pissed off by the offering. She was known for being something of a firecracker when challenged so had no issue with unleashing a torrent of abuse against the petulant opportunist. She may have even grabbed him by the throat although her groggy recollection ended there. Next thing, she was lying face down and still naked in a pool of blood with her client nowhere to be seen. Standing there showering away the cruor had reminded her about the state of southern emergency between her legs and it seemed logical to kill a second bird with the same stone.

Last night’s dramatics had coincided with the end of her cycle and she had been in early flow when the previous assault had occurred. Delilah was used to being a heavy bleeder but this week she had dropped enough ovium to repopulate a colony of xenomorphs. Choosing to go commando hadn’t helped and there had been a disparaging episode in Walmart when she’d bled all the way along aisle nine. She just put it down to her ovaries and thought little else of it.

After strimming her Fallopian foliage she lifted the mirror to take a look at her face. The past few days she had felt strangely lethargic during the day but slept right through each night, without disturbance. Her eye color appeared diluted and the bags beneath her eyes suggested excess but she was sure she had rested sufficiently. Her eyebrows, which had real personality, had thicken considerably and were in danger of becoming mono, the bridge of her nose sprouting thick black hair where they’d never thought to venturing before.

 

She opened her mouth to assess the color of her tongue as this was ordinarily an indicator as to her physical well-being. As she did this she caught glance of her incisors, which were caked in blood and more pointed than she remembered. She frantically attempted to cast her thoughts back but there was no inkling as to what had transpired the night before. She slammed down the mirror hard enough to fracture the glass and took a final look at her contorted image before returning to the boudoir to get dressed.

The blood… of course. She had conveniently forgotten the fact that the room looked like a crime scene and was unlikely to have extra charges wavered on account of a little menstrual mishap so she cleared the bed and grabbed the blood-drenched sheets in a bundle. They were positively sopping, there must’ve been five or six pints collected in the linen and had soaked right through the mattress also. She waddled over to the closet, taking great care not to spill the sauce as the magnolia carpet hadn’t seen so much as a drop of Merlot since being replaced a month ago. As she swung the wooden door open her eyes baulked in their sockets and instant gag reflex kicked in.

In front of her was the shredded cadaver of last night’s prey, limbs removed and stuffed in alongside his tattered torso. His eyes appeared still fixated and there was a horrendous look frozen onto his face which unsettled her in the extreme. She attempted to shut the closet door but one of the appendages had toppled forth and denied her the closure she desired. She kicked it back inside with her bare foot, grimacing all the while and then slumped back onto the stripped bedstead. For a few seconds which seemed like hours she sat comatose and in utter disbelief at the foulness she had been made privy to. Then it occurred that it may have been her who committed the act and a feeling of dread washed over her, dizzying Delilah momentarily.

She was startled back to reality by her cell which had commenced vibrating on the bedside cabinet behind her. For a moment she couldn’t contemplate answering but, spotting the name Eloise flashing up in neon pixels, she reached over and took the call. “Eloise. I’m in a real fucking mess. You have to get over here quick…” her voice began breaking as she continued “…I need help!” “Slow down and calm yourself. What has happened? Where can I find you? I need an address. talk to me” her friend replied calmly. She gulped before commencing to explain her predicament.

“I’m at the Rearmont Drive Motel about a mile out-of-town. I just woke up and there’s a body in the wardrobe. I think it’s last night’s customer, remember the bearded sleaze who I picked up in the tavern?” “Uh-huh”. “It’s definitely him and he’s been torn apart. I’m really scared Ellie. Really scared”. “Listen… ” Eloise interjected “… stay where you are and I can be there in fifteen tops. What room you in?” “Sixty nine” Delilah chuckled but inside felt like dying. “Of course. Do something for me babe, don’t freak out. Have a drink or some coke if it’ll keep you relaxed. Second thoughts, maybe not the coke. I’ll sort everything when I get there okay?”

“Okay”. Delilah felt instantly better for having spoken to Ellie. She has cool-headed in a crisis and had always looked our for her, during the countless scrapes the pair had gotten into. How could she fix this though? Resourceful she may have been but bottom line was that there was rotting meat just yards from her coordinates and that kind of shit didn’t just go away. If it did then Ed Gein would probably be working in some rundown gas station on the outskirts of town and still increasing his tally. Her abusive stepfather had taught her all about repercussions and she needed no reminding of cause and effect.

 

In true Eloise fashion, she arrived at the motel in less than ten minutes. She was nothing if not dependable and annoyingly came a lot quicker too. The pair had been intimate on more than one occasion and her vagina seemed to be on perpetual loop when she reached orgasm. this frustrated Delilah who needed warming up before hitting her stride but, right now, she saw the blessing over any curse. Her friend was here, everything would be made better. She believed that vehemently.

No sooner had Ellie began her second knock than the door was wrenched open and the blonde bombshell bundled inside. There was still enough time for Delilah to consider how delectable her playmate looked and, in truth, she had never seen her any other way. Any thoughts were rapidly replaced with consternation as her mind recalled what was waiting for her behind the closet door. “Sit yourself down. Explain. What the hell happened?” The pair sat on the divan and Eloise grasped both her friend’s hands, unperturbed by the crimson stain on the mattress which she clocked before seating herself.

“I… I have no fucking clue Ellie”. “What do you remember?” she inquired and Delilah nodded her head bemused. “You fucked that guy right?” “Yeah, he was an asshole and blew his load on me. You know I can’t stand that. After that…nothing.” “Listen Ellie, you remember the other day that guy bit you?” She pulled her sleeve up to reveal several punctures on her forearm “… well he did the same to me. I was passed out when he found you and had no idea it would happen again otherwise I would have looked after you…you know I would”. Delilah was shell-shocked by the reveal but was less than prepared for what her friend informed her next.

 

Click here to read Whorewolf: Acceptance

 

 

Sin by the full moon,

 

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014