written by FatFreeCoolWhip

It was a chilly February morning when Robin walked across the street to murder her neighbor.

The setting of the sun was turning the sky pink, as well as making the temperature drop a few more degrees. As she stood on her neighbor's porch shivering, she found herself wishing she had worn a jacket.

"No, no. That would have just been another thing to wash blood out of." She mumbled to herself.

She bounced nervously from foot to foot, the floorboards under her feet creaking and groaning with each little movement. She didn't want to be here, after all— not really, anyway.

The only one of ten siblings who didn't join the family business of monster slaying, she had always been a bit of an outcast. When she had decided to go to community college for Business Administration instead of killing monsters, her father had said she could do whatever she wanted—but he wasn't going to pay for it.

She was able to swing it on her own for the first three years, but now that she was so close to graduating, her money was running out. Her only option was to beg her father for help.

"Kill five monsters and bring me their heads. Then I'll think about it."

That's what her father had said to her.

So now here she was, silver dagger tucked neatly into the waistband of her jeans, waiting for someone to answer the door. It was a good thing she was pretty sure her neighbor was a vampire.

Either a vampire or dead. It was hard to tell if the spooky state of the house was due to the person that lived there being undead or just simply dead. The mail that was spilling out of the letterbox had her leaning towards dead, but the ominous cloud of bats that hung around the house every night screaming about the lord of the damned said otherwise.

"Okay, so it's stake, then fire, then knife— No wait, fire is last. I need the head." She recited to herself one last time, "Don't forget the head. The head is important. I want the head—"

"Can I help you?"

Robin whipped around to find that the door was open now and there was a woman standing there. Her hair was black and silky, falling loosely behind her back, a few stray strands delicately framing her pretty round face. Her dark eyes were wide in surprise and she inhaled deeply as she stared at Robin, her breasts rising up and straining against the black dress she wore.

"Uh, oh, I just— you see– I wanted to borrow some—" Robin's eyes darted around the woman's body before they finally landed firmly on her breasts. "—Some milk."

The woman cocked her head to the side. A trail of silky black hair slid over her shoulder and down her chest, falling neatly between her cleavage. She took a second to tuck it neatly behind her ear.

"Some milk?"

"Uh yes. I'm doing something normal with it. Like baking a cake." Robin said.

If the woman was at all put off by her awkwardness, she didn't show it.

"Oh, well I can see if I have any."

Robin swallowed nervously.

"Okay."

The woman pointed behind herself, back into the house.

"Do you want to come in? It's awfully cold."

Robin nodded.

"Oh yeah, thanks."

She stepped inside, but found it wasn't any warmer in the dusty Victorian house. The lights were off, cobwebs cluttered up the corners of the house, and a thick layer of dust covered everything in sight. It looked like nobody had lived there in years.

"Sorry about the mess. I was taking a nap." The woman said.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Robin said as she followed the woman into the living room, "That makes perfect sense."

The woman crouched down and started to fiddle with the dusty fireplace.

"There should be milk in the fridge," she said. "I'll get a fire going."

"Alright." Robin said.

Luckily the kitchen was just one room over, however the lights were off there as well. A flip of the switch did nothing. She pulled her phone out to illuminate the room but found that there was a layer of cobwebs and dust here as well. When she pulled the fridge open, she quickly realized it wasn't even cold inside. There was milk in there, alright— but it was little more than a half gallon of curdled sludge.

"Good thing I didn't actually need this." She mumbled to herself before returning the jug to the fridge and shutting the door.

She returned to the living room where the woman was still crouched on the ground.

"Did you find what you needed?" The woman asked.

"Uh, no. The milk was expired, actually. It expired three years ago."

"Oh, I apologize." She said as she poked at the small fire she had started. "How long is milk usually good for? I can't remember."

Robin blinked.

"I dunno. Like a week maybe?"

"Hm. Well, I'm sorry I didn't have the milk you wanted." The woman stood and walked over to her, one slow deliberate step at a time. "But perhaps I could give you something else since you made the trouble of walking over here—"

Robin felt all the blood drain from her face.

"Uh, like a gift card?"

Another slow step towards her.

"No, I was going to let you do what you came here to do." She said.

"What I came here to do?"

"Try your best to kill me."

In a fit of panic, Robin pulled the knife from her waistband and brandished it at the woman with shaking, sweaty hands. She wondered if the woman could hear how loudly her heart was racing. Could vampires hear your heartbeat? It seemed like something she had seen in a movie once. She wasn't sure if it was true or not. In that moment, she wished she had paid better attention to the monster hunting tips her father used to give her.

The woman caught Robin's hand and pulled the knife up to her own face. She ran her tongue slowly down the side of the blade, a loud sizzle filling the room.

"Ah— stings." She said, "I like things that sting."

Robin snatched the knife back and glanced up at the woman. The vampire made no effort to run away or even attack her. She simply stood there, the light of the fire bouncing off of the soft curves of her face and the soft curves of her body, waiting for Robin to strike.

Robin dropped her hands to her side as a feeling of defeat washed over her.

She couldn't do it. She had known all along, but now she knew for sure. She didn't want to kill this woman, and she certainly didn't want to cut off her head and carry it back home.

Gross.

The woman arched an eyebrow at her.

"Well? If you don't want to kill me, I suppose we could always do something else fun."

It was strange. The woman didn't even seem particularly mad at her.

"You mean like a board game or something?" Robin asked.

"No, not like a board game or something."

"Like watching a movie? It seems like you don't have the electricity turned on, but we could use my phone to-"

"No!" The woman sighed in frustration. "I'm coming onto you!"

"Oh." Robin said. "Uh, why?"

"Do you want to touch my boobs or not?"

Robin vigorously nodded. Probably too vigorously.

"Oh no. I do." She said, "They look great."

"Alright, come over here." The woman said.

Robin took a couple of steps closer to the woman but stopped short of touching her.

"Wait— Is this a trap? I feel like this is a trap. Are you going to kill me?"

"Of course not. If I was going to kill you I would have to tell you first. It's one of the vampire rules." The woman said innocently.

"I don't know. That doesn't sound right. It seems kind of like you just made that up."

The woman closed the distance between them by bringing a hand up to her cheek and cupping it gently. Her fingers were icy cold as they trailed carefully down her skin.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're a big, strong vampire slayer and I'm just a lonely little vampire who hasn't had anyone to talk to in half a decade." she said, "Why would I kill the first person I've talked to in years?"

Robin swallowed and leaned in closer to the woman's mouth.

"I- I guess that would be counterproductive."

"Yes. It would. Now why don't you help a girl out? After all of this time alone I'm practically dying to be touched."

"Yes." Robin said. "Yes, I'll touch you."

The woman leaned in a little closer and Robin closed her eyes in anticipation. Unfortunately, the woman's lips didn't land on her mouth.

They landed on her neck.

Robin was suddenly on a bed. The vampire was there underneath her, clad only in a set of lacy black lingerie.

She was straddling the woman, her legs on either side of the woman's hips. The woman's hands were tied together above her head, her chest heaving, her breast rising with each little inhale. Her eyes were glassy with tears, her cheeks flushed red with desire. Her red mouth parted a little with each desperate pant.

Robin held the silver blade in her hand. She tossed it in the air and caught it by the handle before resting it carefully against the woman's throat. It was close enough to keep her from moving, but not close enough to actually make contact with her skin. The rising of her chest stopped as she held her breath to keep the knife further away.

"Are you scared of me?" Robin asked. "Do you think I'd hurt you?"

"No." The woman said. "At least, not in any way I wouldn't like."

"And what would you like? Something like this?"

She trailed the knife slowly down the side of the woman's face, across her neck, and down the center of her chest. Where it traveled it sizzled, leaving a red trail that quickly disappeared back into silky caramel skin. Unblemished. The woman hissed and shuddered, letting out a surprised gasp.

Robin took the opportunity to hook the knife under the center of her bra and cut it loose, freeing her breasts from the flimsy lace material.

"Ah, yes!" The woman whimpered. "Something like that."

"So you like that?" Robin asked.

The woman nodded.

"I think I know something else you'll like."

She picked the knife up, and ran it across her own hand, drawing blood. The red liquid pulled into the center of her palm. She could feel the woman's entire body stiffen at the smell of it.

The woman twisted, no— writhed beneath her. It was desperation. It was want.

It was need.

"Do you want it?" She whispered. "Do you want my blood?"

"Yes!" The woman whimpered.

"You can't resist it, can you?"

"I can't." The woman said.

"If you want it, you have to beg me for it."

"Please."

Robin gave the woman a disappointed click of her tongue.

"That's not good enough. Come on now. Beg harder. Beg me for my blood like the leech you know you are."

"Please, Slayer, please! I need it. I'll do anything for it— I'll do anything for even just a single drop."

Her words were nearly a sob.

"Alright. If you need it so badly-"

Robin's lips twitched into a smile and she turned her palm to the side, squeezing the blood out. The bright red liquid fell onto the woman's face, drop by drop onto her forehead and cheeks. She took special care not to get any in the woman's mouth.

The woman writhed in frustration.

"In my mouth please. Put it in my mouth."

Robin arched an eyebrow.

"You want it where?"

"My mouth—"

Robin took the woman's chin in between her thumb and index finger, holding it steady. She could feel the woman's cold legs twisting together underneath her in anticipation.

Robin moved her hand and let a couple of drops fall into her mouth. They sizzled on the pink of her tongue, wisps of smoke drifting into the air.

As the woman swallowed she let go of her chin and ran her thumb across her bottom lip. With a turn of her palm, she pressed the cut against the woman's mouth.

"Now lick it clean for me."

"Yes ma'am."

Robin watched as her tongue slipped from between her lips and slowly started lapping at the palm of her hand. She used her free hand to reach back and gently caress the soft, cold skin of her inner thigh.

"That's a good girl." She cooed. "What a good little leech."

The woman's face flushed even more, her eyes wild with the desire to please.

"Yes— let me be your good girl—"

She moved her hand up just a little higher, drawing circles slowly on the woman's hip. The woman pulled away from her palm and gave her best attempt at trying to twist closer to her touch. Underneath the weight of Robin's body the effort was futile.

"If you are my good girl, then what will you do for me?" Robin asked. "What sort of things are you willing to do for me?"

"I'll do anything you want. Anything at all."

"Anything? You're sure about that?"

"Yes." The woman said.

"You'd devote yourself to me like that? Even though you know I'm a slayer?"

"'You are delicious is what you are." The woman said. "I would do anything just for a taste. Just one more taste."

Robin smiled and leaned in closer to the woman. Cold gasps of breath tickled her lips. The woman tilted her head up further, aching for the connection.

"Good."

Robin closed her eyes, and kissed her.

Robin's eyes fluttered open. She was back in the dusty old house, exactly where she had been just moments earlier. The woman pulled away from her and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, a content sigh escaping from her red lips. Robin's hand shot up to her neck, her fingers tracing over the puncture wounds that now decorated her skin.

"Ah. Delicious and quenching, just like a finely aged wine." She said, "Perfect after a long nap."

Shit. My dad is going to kill me.

At her stunned silence, the woman spoke again.

"Well— it looks like that was very satisfying for the both of us, wouldn't you agree?" The woman purred.

The knife slipped from Robin's hands and clattered onto the floor. She panicked and scrambled away from the woman, not even bothering to pick it up.

"Uh— thanks for the— for the... whatever it was you just did." Robin stuttered, "I should— I should get going so I can find some... some milk. For my cake."

She hurried past the woman and out of the front door, but not before she heard the last words the woman said to her—

"Alright. I hope I'll see you again very soon, Slayer."

<<<<<FINIS>>>>>

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C.J. Taylor writes eccentric stories about women who love women, vampires, and the American South. When not writing, she hang out in her decrepit home in the woods with her daughter and three cats.