Crescendo - Urban Fantasy
The man with shoulder-length, dark blond hair and edgy smile sat motionless in in the shadows, in a wooden bar chair, waiting. No one had really noticed him, but then he had made sure that they would not. Wearing a black suit and silk shirt, his white silk tie almost glowed. Leif Sufferden realized he was a tad over dressed for the rough-neck bar in Batavia where several fist fights broke out on a nightly bases, stabbings were not unheard of, and the police had had the place shut down for various violations in the past. Why, only in the past week someone had been stabbed to death, right here. There had been shootings, too, of course. But, tonight, “Side Winders” happened to be open, and its customers couldn't be happier, unless they were high on something other than liquor and weed.
A smile crimped Leif's lips while he watched the blond woman strut in from the street on four-inch heals into the dank bar. They were blue to match her eyes, not that anyone would notice this little detail, but he did. Their eyes met. He slid his eyes in the direction of the pool table closest to him. She gave him a small nod. Her smile broadened to reveal white teeth. Her fangs hadn't come out as yet. She always did have great control. It was one of the things Leif admired about Darla. Her control. That, and her zeal for violence.
All male eyes in the room were zeroed in on Darla like a heat seeking missile. Who could blame them? Wearing a halter top and the shortest possible micro-mini, her heavily made-up eyes darted across the faces of four men who were playing pool. Conversation around the pool table had come to a halt. She had suddenly become the one and only highlight in their uneventful evening. She boldly eyed them right back. They noted she was by herself. A lone woman who walks into a bar—especially one of this ilk—was just asking for trouble. On top of it, she looked like a hooker. No matter what, it looked like their luck had changed quickly as she twitched her way toward them, her movements more pronounced. Looking hungry, her eyes became more cat-like as she licked her lips, like she might take a big hunk out of one of them.
She stepped around their stilled bulks, wiggled her small ass with exaggeration, smiling and making eye contact with each one as she strutted by, sliding the fingers of one hand across the bumper of the table. Pausing next to the biggest one, she looked him up and down. He had the usual biker tats—a lot of skulls and spiders—and a skull logo displayed on his clothing. His hang-over beer gut gave the impression he did more drinking than anything else. An ugly scar down the left cheek that interrupted the two-week old beard sprouting around his chin and jawline told the story of a guy who had seen a bar fight up close and personal.
“Hullo,” she purred, then licked her rubied lips. “How's the game?”
“Oh, fine,” the large man said. The others pumped their heads, chiming in agreeing noises. “In fact, I think it just got better.” He and the others rumbled with knowing chuckles.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, her hand sliding up his sausage sized fingers.
“Not at all,” the large one said, motioning toward the table. “Here, you can use my cue stick.” He held it out to her, showing his more gentlemanly side, a wide grin to sell it.
“Thank you.” She took the cue stick from him, holding his gaze for a long ten seconds. She fingered the tip with a red lacquered nail and returned his gaze. “I know just what to do with it, too.”
The men all chuckled as though they were in on the joke.
She propped her ass onto the bumper portion of the pool table, and settled the larger end of the cue stick between her parted legs. The men leered and chuckled at her act.
“Hey! No sitting on the pool table!” the owner cried from the back of the bar.
“Aw, shut the fuck up, Hank. We're just havin' us a little fun here!” shouted the large man. He looked down at the blonde, almost expectantly.
She wiggled a finger in the universal “come closer” signal. He did.
“What's your name?” she asked.
“Stan,” he said. “Stan Baker.”
“Hello, Stan Baker,” she said. “Let's get to know one another.” Putting the cue stick down, she spread her legs further apart.
“Okay, pretty little girl,” he said, moving in front of her, but not yet touching her, while the others looked on, making groaning noises, wishing they were in his spot.
“You want me, don't you, Stan?” she asked.
Stan let out a bark of laughter. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” The men laughed. By now those around the other two pool tables, and some men at the bar had turned around to watch the scene.
“Come here, then. Kiss me,” she said, leaning forward. She puckered up her red lips.
“Alright.” The other men made sounds of encouragement as their large companion placed his hips between her knees. His large hands went around her small waist as he nudged himself between her thighs. Her skirt hiked up so far, he wondered if she had a thong on—or nothing at all. Either way, he was going to score tonight. Her legs wrapped around his large girth while her hands went up his chest. Her fingers twined behind his neck. She didn't flinch from his bad breath, or his over-powering body odor, but allowed him to bring her in for a kiss. His buddies made noises again, nudging one another.
No one noticed the man in the suit, Leif, had risen from his chair in the far corner. Arms folded, he watched with passive interest while the man pressed Darla back onto the pool table. The kiss lasted for more than twenty seconds. He did wonder when Darla would make her move. She liked playing with her food.
Three vampires stepped into the bar, and scanned the room until their eyes met Leif's. He nodded at them, and slid his gaze to where Darla was in a romantic tryst with the large man. The only female in the group cast her light brown eyes to the biker and Darla, then back to Leif. Her name was Kadu Litore, a Jamaican-American. Leif thought she had been one of his better turns. She definitely enjoyed the hunt, now that they were free to hunt humans. She smiled brilliantly, and already her fangs were out. She licked her lush lips in anticipation. Her slightly dusky chocolate skin looked as though it were oiled. Her bare arms and legs didn't agree with the cold weather outside. One would think it was a ninety degree day, but it was only in the twenties with a bitter north wind. That alone should have tipped anyone off what was going on here. But it didn't. Every human was either into the game on the telly, their drink, or looking at the scene at the pool table, unaware that they had been invaded by vampires.