In
a world where vampires are real, blood is a financial asset and sex mixed with
blood commands the highest price...
Myra Danson is in desperate need of cash
for her ailing mother and when she has the opportunity to join the shadow world
of blood courtesans, she jumps before she looks. Soon she’s sharing a bed with the
handsome Kristos Anastos, but then bullets start to fly and she finds herself
running for her life.
Kristos assumes the attack stems from
his enemies hoping to destroy him, but it quickly becomes clear that Myra is
the real target. Worse, she’s falling in love with Kristos, but is the sexy
vampire friend or foe?
Blood is money and Myra’s may be worth
the most of all. A past she never knew existed has come to claim her and she’ll
be lucky if she only ends up dead.
Vampire
Erotica: Blood Rush
Chapter One
“What is it that interests you in
becoming a courtesan to vampires?” Madame Rouge watched me, assessing. She had
the beauty most women would kill for; tall, slender and an oval face with lush,
red lips and crystal blue eyes topped off with impossibly long lashes. Her
caramel brown hair was pulled up in a bun with long curls spilling down to her
shoulders. She was younger than I’d expected with a somewhat archaic manner of
speaking. And now she wanted me to explain what it was that made selling my body
to vampires my number one career choice. Why would a girl from the backwoods of
New York state travel to its glittering capitol, New York City, just to sell
her body?
I shifted in my chair and tugged the hem
of my skirt down to make sure it covered my knees. Her lips curled in amusement
at the movement and I froze, realizing it was a mistake. When applying for a
job as a courtesan, demure modesty was not an asset.
A long silence ensued because I didn’t
know how to tell her what she wanted to hear. This job was my one shot to get
the medical care that could cure my mom and keep my childhood home. I was a
classic sob story, but I didn’t want pity and I was pretty sure it wasn’t a turn-on
in the world I sought to join.
“Miss Danson?” she prompted. Her body
language disengaged from our interview. She no longer leaned forward and she
dropped my resume on her desk. A resume that said nothing much about me beyond
I was a college student who’d held a string of low paying part-time gigs as I
worked my way through school.
“I need the money,” I said. “And, I, uh,
like sex.” It’s not a lie if you really do like something you’ve never done,
right? The theory sounded great to me, I just had no idea how things worked in
on a practical level. I hadn’t dated a lot, dividing my attention between
college and tending to my mother left little time to socialize.
She put her hand back on my application.
“Clara said you were experienced, which is why I even agreed to meet with you.
I need girls who aren’t afraid of sex and know how to enjoy themselves. The
vampires demand it.”
I bit back a laugh at the mention of my
old High School ‘frenemy’. She hated me. If I hadn’t known it before, I knew it
now because she was lying, purposely setting me up for a fall. I’d told her nothing about my alleged
‘experience’ only asked her how to get in touch with Madame Rouge. Anything
else she made up just to screw with me.
Focusing back on Madame Rouge, I smiled
brightly. “I love sex, sex loves me.” Fake it until you make it, right?
She nodded. “Good. Shrinking violets
don’t taste good and vampires don’t want hysterical girls who run screaming to
the police.” She looked at my application again. “You’ve never slept with a
vampire?”
I shook my head.
This pleased Madame and she smiled.
“That raises your price.” At my confused look, she explained, “No scarring at
the neck. You’re fresh meat.”
I flushed at her phrasing and she
laughed. “They find blushing sexy. You’ll be very popular with that fair skin
of yours showing every emotion.” She quickly scanned through my application one
last time before saying, “I think you’ll do. When can you start?”
“As soon as possible.” I needed money
like yesterday.
She smiled at me again, pleased. “Excellent.
How does tonight sound?”
“Tonight?” I repeated, my voice
squeaking. “I don’t have any clothes.” Or time to find someone to deflower me
quick so I didn’t lose my virginity and get the blood sucked out of me on the
same night.
“We have an extensive closet here for
just such an occasion.” She pushed a button on her phone. “Jacques, please
bring three outfits with Kristos in mind to my office.”
A moment later, Jacques stalked into the
office in a shock of pink hair and tight jeans. His mesh tank top displayed a
lean, defined frame and left nothing to the imagination. “Make way for fashion,
ladies,” he said in a high trill. In his arms, he carried a jumble of clothes which
he arranged into outfits on the back of the couch that sat along the far wall
of Madame Rouge’s spacious office.
The clothes he’d brought looked small
and way too revealing. I found myself tugging on the hem of my skirt again, anxious
at the thought of exposing so much skin.
Madame Rouge waved her hand, the motion
languid and elegant. “Jacques meet Myra. She’ll be going out for an audition
tonight.”
Jacques sighed and looked down his nose
at me. He didn’t speak, just sniffed and then resumed fussing over the clothes
he’d brought in.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, trying to be
polite.
“Yeah, sure.” He flicked his wrist in my
general direction. Then, holding up a yellow dress, he asked, “What about this
one?”
“I prefer the blue for her. She’s perfect
for jewel tones with her alabaster skin and auburn hair.” Madame picked up a
blue corset and a skinny band of leather that was supposed to be a skirt. “But the pink might be good too.” The pink in
question was a go-go hooker look consisting of a latex mini dress with matching
thigh-high boots. She turned to me, focusing those impossibly clear blue eyes
on me, lashes all aflutter. “What do you think, Miss Danson?”
“I think none of that is anything fresh
meat would wear,” I said, blurting out my gut reaction. It all looked cheap and
tawdry to me and yeah, I was selling my body, but I had some standards
thank-you-very-much. I was not vampire bait Barbie. Assuming I had any say in
the matter. While I would do anything for my mom, I wouldn’t go along to get
along either.
Madame Rouge didn’t seem too upset by my
blunt response, but Jacques stiffened and glared at me with narrowed eyes.
She fingered the pink latex and then let
it go with a small sigh. “She has a point, I think. Do we have anything more
romantic, more flow-y?”
Jacques huffed and gathered up the
clothes. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room, his cowboy boots making a thudding
sound despite the plush carpet.
“Sorry,” I called after him with an
apologetic look to Madame Rouge. Note to self: Try not to piss everyone off on
your first day on the job.
Madam Rouge just laughed, a sweet
musical sound that probably made birds burn with envy. She was a mesmerizing
concoction of feminine perfection and I felt like Bertha the fat, hippy and
hairy next to her. “No worries, my dear. I like a girl who has a vision of her
brand.”
“Brand?”
She went to her desk. “Yes, you are a
product and how you package yourself determines how well you’ll sell.” She typed
something on her computer and turned the screen so I could see. “We set up web pages
for each of our girls. We do a pictorial and a bio targeting certain tastes and
experiences. We like to offer clients a variety of pleasures.”
I leaned in and looked at the page. The
girl featured was a blonde named Victoria. She wore a bra that exposed her pink
nipples and a barely there thong. Her bio stated she “tasted great with
champagne.”
What
does that even mean?
Jacques bustled into the room with a blasé,
“I’m back. What do you think of this?”
I turned and my jaw dropped at the sight
of the dress in his hands. It was a sapphire blue floor length gown in a shiny
fabric that looked to be silk. The halter top had a plunging neckline so deep,
I wondered if it would show my belly button. He turned it around to show it was
backless and then flipped back to the front to display the slit that went
straight up the middle of the skirt.
“Stunning. You have the best taste,”
Madame Rouge said, her voice warm with appreciation. “Miss Danson?”
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, reaching
out to touch it.
Jacques smiled, pleased with himself and
pulled the dress back until it was just out of reach. “I brought some lace
thigh-highs to go with it. The slit allows you to play peek-a-boo if you wish.”
Peek-a-boo?
“That is an excellent detail,” Madame
Rouge said. Noting my confusion, she smiled. “Our clients appreciate a little
tease. You might think of signing up for a burlesque seminar at some point to
hone those skills. Great sex is all about anticipation.”
Jacques sniffed and looked over my navy
interview suit. “Take off those rags you’re abusing the public eye with and
let’s see how this looks.”
I flushed at the thought of disrobing in
front of them, but noting Madame Rouge’s expectant look, I realized this must
be some unspoken test. If you’re going to have sex and engage in bloodletting for
a living, I guess you can’t be shy about getting naked. If your boss wants to
see the goods, you show the goods.
Resigned, I shrugged out of my jacket
and slipped off the lace camisole I wore underneath. Leaving my bra on for the
moment, I unzipped and wiggled out of my skirt.
“Oh my God, you’re wearing mass market
underwear,” Jacques said, disgust filling his voice.
My blush deepened and spread to my
chest. Madam Rouge clasped her hands together, almost applauding. “Oh very,
nice Miss Danson. I don’t think we have anyone who blushes quite like you on
staff.” To Jacques she said, “Be nice. We can’t all have your exquisite taste.”
Jacques gave a petulant ‘humph’ and
stared at my underwear as if willing it off my body. When I reached for the
dress, he jumped back. “Oh no, not with that made-in-China sweatshop underwear
on your body. It comes off or the dress does not go on, honey.”
“Do you have something I can wear?”I asked.
He held up a finger and wagged it at me.
“First, there is no bra with this dress. Second, underwear never comes back so
we don’t supply it.”
Go
commando? I looked at Madame Rouge who raised a perfectly
contoured eyebrow. With a sigh I unhooked my bra and tossed it into the pile
with the rest of my clothes. Then I slipped off my underwear. There, I was
naked. Ta-dah.
Madame Rouge took the opportunity to
walk around me. “Very nice.” She ran a hand down my back, raising goose bumps
as she went. “Soft skin, no marks or blemishes. Oh, they’ll love you.” She
stepped in front of me, gaze assessing my chest. “Large, firm breasts. A
surprise since your frame is so slight.” She paused to heft a breast in her
hand, fingers grazing the tip. When it puckered at her touch, she gave a nod of
approval. “Let’s see how the dress looks.”
Jacques dropped the dress over my head
and arranged it on my body with confident expertise. The neckline plunged
almost to my belly button and the key to keeping my breasts covered was tying
the halter tight behind my neck. The slit stopped about six inches before my pubic
mound. I would have to be careful when I walked or my vagina would play
peek-a-boo with everyone I met.
Yikes.
“Here, put these on and we’ll see how it
comes together.” Jacques handed me the thigh highs.
They were a sheer black with lace on the
top. Very feminine. I pulled them on while Jacques rummaged in a closet next to
Madame Rouge’s desk. When he emerged, he handed me a pair of blue mules with
kitten heels. I slipped my feet into the shoes and then stood up.
Spinning in a slow circle, my arms open,
I asked, “What do you think?”
“You need a different hair-do,” Madame
Rouge said. “But otherwise, I think the dress suits you.” She went back to her
phone and dialed. “Savon, we need your skills.”
Jacques scooped up my suit and underwear.
“I’m going to burn these.”
“What? Those are my clothes!” I reached
for them, wanting to take them back.
He stepped out of reach, tightening his
grip on my clothes. “Honey, when you get your first paycheck, these won’t even
be good enough to use as cleaning rags. Trust me, you’re not the first girl
I’ve dressed.”
“What will I wear home?”
“You can keep the dress. We’ll deduct it
from your paycheck,” Madame Rouge said.
Jacques shot an arch look at Madame
Rouge. “Besides, are you really saying that you are so attached to a navy suit,
which is the height of generic? Because, if so, I suggest Madame reconsider
your suitability for this work. There is nothing generic about what we do
here.”
What could I say to that? Nothing. So I
let him go and take my clothes with him.
“Jacques knows how to make girls look
their best. If you can stand it, take him shopping to set up a work wardrobe,”
Madame Rouge said with a kind smile. “He has a heart of gold, if you can get
past his sarcasm. He’ll never steer you wrong when it comes to clothes. I
wouldn’t put up with him otherwise.”
“But of course, I am your favorite,”
said an amused masculine voice with a French accent.
I turned to see a tall, blond man step
into the office. In contrast to Jacques’ flamboyance, he wore all black, which
looked severe against his pale complexion.
He entered the room with an airy, “I’m
Savon. I do the hair and make-up.” He set a large make-up case on the floor and
opened it to pull out a hair brush and dryer. “Sit down, s’il vous plait.”
I sat in one of the office chairs, carefully
arranging the dress so I didn’t flash anyone. Savon fluffed my hair around my
shoulders. “Not too fine, not too thick. Your hair is just right. Is this your
natural color?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Lovely.” He ran the brush through my
hair, tugging through some snarls.
“Thanks.”
Ten minutes later I’d been brushed,
moussed and blow dried into a ‘down do’ full of swirling body. Savon handed me
a mirror so I could see the result and I gasped. “I look like I should be in a
Pantene commercial.”
He laughed. “Oui, of course you do. I did your hair, didn’t I?” At my nod of
agreement, he said, “Now let’s do some make-up.”
“Just the eyes and lips, Savon. We don’t
want to hide that blush of hers,” Madame Rouge said looking up from the
computer. She had returned to her desk and busied herself typing while Savon
worked his magic.
“Absolutement,
Madame,” he murmured in response as he looked through his make-up case.
Brandishing a pair of tweezers, he said, “Your skin is like fine porcelain, to
cover it with anything would be a sin.” With a deft touch, he plucked my
eyebrows.
I winced and asked, “Have you worked
here long?” What I really wanted to know was how someone ended up with a career
making up courtesans, but I wasn’t brave enough to say it so bluntly.
“Years and years.” He dropped the tweezers
back in his case and selected an eye shadow palette. He did a quick application
of eye shadow followed by liner and mascara. The final touch was a subtle
lipstick. As he worked, I caught glimpses of myself in the small mirror
attached to his make-up case. The lipstick shade matched my natural lip color,
giving it just a little something extra.
“You’re all set, mademoiselle,” he said
cleaning up his supplies. “What does Madame think?”
Madame Rouge gestured for me to stand
and I did another spin to show off the complete look.
“You are a lovely young woman, Miss Danson.”
“Yes, really divine.” Savon nodded in
agreement.
I blushed and looked at my feet. She had
to be joking. I doubted I looked as gorgeous as Madame.
“Are you unconvinced?” Madame Rouge
stood up and pulled out a floor length mirror hidden in a clever compartment
behind the bookcase on the side wall.
The woman who looked back at me was tall
and model pretty. My eyelashes were almost as long as Madame’s and there was a
pink glow to my skin. You would never know I had fat pants at home. Or that my
idea of dressing up was wearing clean jeans with a Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt from
my senior year trip to London.
Somehow I’d been transformed into the
supermodel fantasy version of myself. I had thought that would take plastic
surgery, but really all I ever needed was the right dress and make-up. Huh. Go figure.
“Thank you, Savon. I love what you did
with my hair.” I put a hand to my head in wonder. He’d artfully tousled my
locks into a sexy bed head.
“It’s easy to make good hair look great,”
he said with a smile and giving a little bow. “Now, Madame, if you are done
with me, I will go, oui?”
“Mais
oui. Merci, monsieur.” She gave
him a distracted wave as he left. Then, pulling a camera out of a desk drawer
she said, “We need to take a picture for Kristos’ approval.”
“Who is Kristos?”
“Your trainer and first client. He’s an
affluent man and he loves girls like you, elegant yet passionate. Plus, the
fresher the better. Maybe you didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, but it
wasn’t that long ago either.” She led me to an empty spot along the wall of her
office. “Why don’t you give me a few different poses?”
I smiled and clasped my hands behind my
back.
She lowered the camera, shaking her
head. “This is not a school picture, my dear. Remember your brand.”
My brand. Right. The virgin pretending
she knew something. I slipped one leg in front of the other, stuck my chest out
and tried to pout like Marilyn Monroe.
She sighed and lowered the camera. “You
look constipated.”
“Sorry. I don’t really know what I’m
doing.” I could feel the hot flush of bewildered embarrassment creeping up my
neck.
“Yes, I can tell.” She walked over to me
and pulled my arm overhead. “Put your arm up like this and look at it as if you
are reaching for the most delicious chocolate. The leg should stay in front
like you have it and then let your other hand trail down your neck between your
breasts. Okay? Now, don’t move.”
She snapped several pictures like that
and then asked me to turn around and look over my shoulder. “That will work, I
think. Let me just email these to Kristos for his approval.”
She inserted the memory card into the
computer and downloaded the pictures, quickly selecting the two best ones to
attach to an email she had already written. I read over her shoulder as she
worked.
Kristos:
I
have a fresh one for you. Experienced, but barely. Never been blooded and very
sweet. She blushes easily. I would guess she would go well with a Bordeaux or
port brandy, but would like your thoughts on that once you’ve had a taste. As
always, I trust you will go gently with her audition.
Send
a car if she meets your approval. She’s here in my office waiting.
Regards,
Madame
Rouge
Once the email had been sent, Madame
Rouge turned to me, her gaze settling on me with palpable weight. “So, let’s
discuss the rules. Your job is to please the client. You back sell behind my
back and you’ll be out of a job.”
I blinked in confusion. “Back sell?”
“Try to negotiate your services
directly. Going out on your own is more dangerous than you know.” She crossed
her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I offer a certain level of protection
to my girls. Our clients pay a membership fee and they know to behave if they
want to stay in my good graces. You go it alone and there’s nothing to stop
them.”
I put a hand to my throat. “Are vampires
that dangerous?” We knew so little beyond that they existed. Had I just made a
mistake?
She watched my hand, eyes gleaming with what
appeared to be amusement. “Not generally, but living as long as they have
sometimes changes them in a bad way. Or their original time period may have
engaged in practices we no longer find acceptable today. I spend a lot of time
ensuring clients can be trusted and that they understand the terms of service.
When you work with me, you know you’ll come home safe.”
I cleared my throat as I processed
everything she’d just explained. “So you said I am to please the client, what
does that mean? Can I say no to anything?”
“You can say no, but I would not make a
habit of it if you want to make money. This is no job for prudes. Kristos will
be a good introduction to what this work entails. You’ll know after tonight if
this is for you.”
Her computer gave a soft beep signaling that
a new email had arrived. She checked it and nodded in satisfaction. “Looks like
Kristos approves. He’s sending a car.”
At that, my heart began to race as I
realized this was really happening. Madame Rouge either didn’t notice or
overlooked my shell-shocked reaction and handed me a stack of papers.
“This is your contract. It includes a
non-disclosure agreement and outlines payment terms. Also, you’ll see that, if
your trainer’s evaluation is poor, we reserve the right to dissolve our
relationship with you.” She flipped through the pages, marking an X where I
needed to sign. “In other words, do what Kristos says. He’s trained other girls
and he knows what he’s doing. Impress him and you impress me, which means more
clients for you. Understood?” She gave me an expectant look.
I managed a nod as she handed the
contract over to me. I tried to read the twisted legalese as I signed, but
lacked the mental clarity to focus on the words. Images of what Kristos might
look like and what it would be like to let him feed on me consumed my mind. My
nerves were on high alert and my hands shook as I made my way through the
pages, signing and initialing where she indicated.
When I finally finished, Madame Rouge
gave me a bright smile. “Congratulations. You are officially a blood
courtesan.”
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Read the rest: Kindle USA Kindle UK Nook Kobo
