Bethany got dressed in her never fail black skimpy dress, the one with the low cut front that showed off her cavernous cleavage. She left the apartment and hurried to the rough part of town through the dark chilly night air.
She pushed open the bar door and was shocked at the emptiness of the establishment, she had never seen it like this before. Most of the tables and chairs were deserted, the dance floor held a solitude dancer, twisting and twirling as if she was in a trance. Bethany scanned the room, the tables that were occupied held couples. She needed someone single, someone that had no one who would miss them. At the bar she spotted a sickly looking man, he was thin and his skin had an ailing blue tinge to it.
Most times she would not even consider such a donor, but these were desperate times. She looked around the room again, just to make sure that there wasn't anyone better who appeared to be single. It looked like he would have to do. Bethany walked towards the bar and pulled out a stool next to him, she sat and eyed the bartender.
'What'll it be love?' Asked the bartender.
'Just a glass of water thanks.'
Bethany turned her head to face the sickly man, she cringed as she spotted the rash all over his blue skin. He sat there with his head resting in the palm of his hands, his elbows on the top of the bar. A pose that you would suspect someone to use if they were trying to nurse a headache. Bethany wasn't sure if he was even awake, for all she knew he could be fast asleep. She listened for signs of life and heard that his breath was ragged and wheezy.
Having second thoughts about this candidate she looks around again.
Still no one else. It looked like it was the smurf's lucky day.
I'll be doing this guy a favour, putting him out of his misery.
Bethany coughed as if trying to clear her throat, the guy stirred and looked towards her. She smiled at him, his face was covered in a weeping rash. It looked like he had scratched the skin raw with his fingers, the open wounds leaked clear fluid. The guys smiled back.
It's now or never. Thought Bethany. 'Hi, how you doing?'
The guy smiled.
'I'm Bethany.'
'Roger.' Said the guy, who appeared to be very nervous.
Bethany wondered if the rash was some kind of nervous infliction.
'I'm bored Roger, how about we go someplace a little more private and have some fun?'
Roger's mouth dropped open and he tried to speak, but no words would come out. Bethany reached over and took hold of his hand. The skin felt rough and flaky. She stood and dragged him out of the premises.
"I haven't any money," said Roger.
"Money?"
"To pay for your services."
Bethany started to laugh, "it's not your money that I want, you have something else I really need."
Roger seemed relieved that he wasn't going home with a hooker.
On the way back to her apartment, she hoped that his skin condition was not contagious. She also hoped that it was only a skin condition and not some exotic disease. The thought of having his blood inside her made her stomach start to convulse, though she restrained herself from vomiting. It was probably lucky that she had lost her appetite and hadn't eaten anything for the last two days, otherwise she would have probably tossed her cookies right there on the footpath.
Bethany opened her door and invited him into her apartment. How she wished she had a cupboard full of liquor, if she was polluted, the sight of Roger might have been marginally bearable. She tried not to look at him, avoided the sight of his blue blotchy skin.
She led him straight to the bedroom and explained to him how she would like to experiment with a little bondage. Roger was in total consent of it, it wasn't everyday that a guy like him was picked up by a gorgeous well built blonde nineteen year old.
Bethany went through her usual routine and left the room to get her stuff after she'd securely bound him to the bed. She looked at herself in the mirror of the bathroom.
Am I doing the right thing, maybe death isn't such a bad option rather than having his blood in me.