parminder 06
After she agrees to be your food and you agree to give her the night, there’s a moment of awkwardness. Have you ever had this happen before? Certainly this is new to her. It’s not like you needed her to agree, so I can only imagine that you were fond of her.
Amusingly, despite the fatigue of blood loss, she took charge of the situation. She was the host, after all. You watched her walk carefully to her neat kitchenette and pour you that gin. She brought it to you with a smile and gestured to the couch.
So here you are. Curled up on a long, L-shaped couch, cuddling her back with your arms draped around her belly. It’s… Enormously comforting to have this stolen moment. In every inch of your body you hunger for her: blood, flesh and spirit. But she feeds you with her simple affection too. Music plays on an expensive sound system. She’s showing you a melodic metal track she loves.
Tonic bubbles tickle your nose as you sip as you listen. “It’s nice,” you agree sceptically. “But, like, it’s shouting. I mean, we’re listening, right? Is there any need to shout? I don’t know.”
She made herself a long drink of rose squash—sensible since right now since even a single would floor her. “No, no, it’s high energy, innit. Like, her voice is gorgeous, and the lyrics are gorgeous, but the world is ugly and the guitars and the drum kind of—that’s what they’re there for. To be a bit ugly. It’s honest.”
“I haven’t been listening to most of the lyrics,” you confess. You don’t admit that you’ve been smelling the apple conditioner in her hair and wishing—just wishing—that it tasted like it smells.
“Well, I think it’s about a woman whose sis— sister dies, and she’s happy that her sister doesn’t have to deal with the bullshit anymore. She gets to just Sail Away, like the song title.” You feel a shivering fit seize Parminder. She’s been having them off and on as her body copes with your feed. You snuggle her closer, sharing the warmth of her blood in your veins.
To keep her mind off the cold you keep her talking. “Did someone you know go sail away?”
She nods, pulling blankets up to the level of her lips. “Mother.. Auntie raised me. Was very young. First time I saw how ugly the world could be.” She leans her head against your chest. Your stomach is smaller, your feast coursing its way through your guts. “Honestly I was glad when she finally went.”
Spotify autoplays some other metal song. Somewhere under the blanket she presses a remote to turn it down. “You don’t feel like you’re part of the world or the ugliness.”
“I don’t?” A surprise gurgle ends with a squelch in your middle. You’re beginning to feel hungry again.
“No.” You think she’s going to add something more. In fact she’s quiet for a long time. Eventually, she speaks with a quiet voice. “I don’t feel lonely now you’re here.”
“I like that.” You bring her hand to your lips and kiss the back of it. She peers up, silently. “You won’t ever be lonely again.”
You’ve both basically drifted off when the curse of the tonic strikes. A raucous belch startles you both to wakefulness.
She laughs, which makes you laugh, and then you’re kissing. She gives so freely. You can’t wait to take it all.
Playfully, you pull the blanket over her head and trap her against your naked body. Maybe you’re greedy for another orgasm; maybe you just want to see what she does. You’re pleasantly surprised when she launches into a belly rub with both hands, exploring from tits to bits.
“Where’d it all go? You’re so much smaller…”
A growl from beneath the blanket makes her change position. It feels a lot like squirming against your bare skin.
“You’re softer here…” Two hands dig in to the skin of your abdomen, and graze your full bladder. You have an idea where some of your blood meal has gone.
“It’s hot. I like your body.”
“It likes yours. But I think it has to let some of you go, now. Where’s your bathroom?”
After a stunned silence she gives you directions. You thank her by clamping her viciously within arms and legs and squeezing, riding her protesting and struggling form till she submits. Then you release her and slip away.
As the sound of falling water echoes within the bowl, you keep an ear out. Likewise when you wash your hands. It would be the perfect time to quietly open a door and slip into the communal corridor in hope of rescue. It is with butterflies in your stomach that you walk back into her living room.
She’s there, eyes girded by smudged makeup peering out of the blanket. She had the same thought as you, maybe. Perhaps she thought she couldn’t get away.
As you lean over her and kiss her, you find yourself hoping she merely wanted to stay.