Regan Fellows walked swiftly along the desolate streets, dodging broken glass and rain puddles, her eyes intent on the night prowlers. The downtown dive was nearby the location she'd been asked to meet up, the place the young woman on the phone had called The Vines. Burned out streetlamps made it difficult to see clearly, and an onslaught of garbage coated the sidewalks. It seemed a place where the trash walked and fit right in.
A bitter wind nipped at her cheeks as she picked up the pace. She pulled the collar of her leather jacket up further as a shield. Her black leather pants seemed to hold up well for the late autumn weather, though she should have thought twice about the skimpy top. Her nipples pressed tight against the seam of her bra and made her wince.
At the corner of Fifth and Halsey, Regan stopped and looked around, concerned she'd gone too far. To her left she spied an obscure wrought iron sign dangling in the breeze that read The Vines . Great, it looked about as seedy as the rest of the joint. Her stomach knotted. A new job always wrecked havoc on her nerves, especially when she ended up in some out of the way place. Those who knew about her line of work quite often were the very ones she needed to be wary of. At all times she needed to be alert and watch her back. No one else would. She acknowledged the dangers her job brought, but it was the life she chose.
With a deep breath she turned the knob of the dark red door, and pushed it open. Here goes nothing.
A few steps in and she came to a winding metal staircase. She followed it down into a sea of writhing, undulating bodies on a red-lit dance floor. The resounding base of the music vibrated so deep it shook each step of her descent. At the last step, a petite redhead greeted her with a tray of drinks in her hand. "Welcome to The Vines. Have a seat wherever you can find one."
Regan nodded and pressed the fake flap of skin around her neck a little closer to make sure it wouldn't be seen. She could never be too careful in a room full of strangers. "Thanks. I wondered if you could help me. I'm looking for a young woman by the name of Selena. She asked me to meet her here."
The waitress primped her corkscrew curls and softly chuckled. "Sure, we're great friends. I'll let her know you're here. And you are?"
Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she leaned in close and spoke quietly. "Regan. Like I said, she's expecting me."
Curls bobbing, the redhead nodded. "I'll let her know. It might be a few minutes before I can track her down. Have to serve some customers."
Regan shrugged. "No worries. I guess I'll wait over at the bar."
She watched the energetic young woman disappear into the crowd of dancers and made her way to the other end. Hands reached out and touched her as she passed, fondling her breasts and ass. Normally she wouldn't mind, but knowing her employer might be watching made her uneasy. Already the temperature in the room had gone up ten degrees. There would've been a time in her life when this scene worked for her. Dancing with strangers. Allowing them to slip their hands wherever they wanted if it meant she'd be rewarded with the rich taste of their blood. But this wasn't her scene anymore. A choice she knew had been the right one. Still, she missed the days of being young and restless. Naïve to the dangers of what a drop of the wrong blood could do.
At the bar she plopped down on a red swivel stool and admired the selection of wine bottles along the shelves. Not much of a drinker she'd never really learned the fine art of tasting wine, but it had always intrigued her. In her line of work she couldn't afford the luxury of wine, or dates for that matter, but maybe someday.
Regan turned in the stool and eyed the rest of the seedy nightclub. The dance floor was packed with obscenely beautiful people dressed head to toe in black. They danced incredibly close, eyes intent solely on one another, bodies gyrating and grinding to the hypnotic beat of the music. She couldn't help but be turned on. To watch made her body hot. A carnal yearning brewed inside her belly. It disturbed her to know how easy she might be swayed if she didn't keep her wits about her.
One decadent looking couple eyed her with a scintillating stare. They moved their hands across their bodies, not averting their gaze from her. In a strange way she could feel them as if they were standing right in front of her.
Desire flickered away at her. She spread her thighs and nestled her hand along the crotch of her leather pants. The flawless woman moved her hand down as well. Her body shook. She could almost feel hands reaching inside her pants and opening her wide, finger fucking her into a beautiful oblivion.
Regan blinked and realized she was stroking herself. Fortunately no one else had seen. She'd have to be on her guard here, she could tell. If she let herself slip, she'd get lost in the night games taking place.
Panties thoroughly soaked, she turned back toward the bar. A strikingly attractive bartender flashed her an alluring smile that nearly knocked her off the stool. Hello handsome.
Her pussy moistened at the sight of his long, dark hair, strong, angular jaw, and piercing green eyes. The lower her gaze went, the wetter she became.
"What's your poison, beautiful?"
Oh good lord he had a voice that matched his sex appeal. Meow.
Regan retrained her gaze from his broad shoulders to his deep-set eyes. He waited for an answer but she couldn't come up with the name of anything, let alone a drink. If he were on the list of samples, she'd gladly try him.
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