Like Blood for Coffee Pt. 01

He let his fingers linger over her ears. She reached up to touch his hands, clasping them. "How does it feel?" he asked her.

"Good," she said, her voice husky with anticipation.

Eiri decided to stay behind her. He did not want to catch sight of her fangs in an unguarded moment, and lose his nerve again. He tried instead to think of her as a woman - any woman - there in the circle of his arms. Willing. Waiting.

Be rough with me, she'd said. He started with her hair, looping the end of the braid around his hand and pulling down. He kept his head by her neck, close to her ear. Away from her mouth. Her head came back against his chest, and she gasped, trembling.

"And that?"

"Good..." she sighed, a tremulous note slowing the word, straining it.

With his free hand, he went for her jacket, pulling down one shoulder. She helped him, shrugging the other off and letting the heavy garment fall to the floor between their legs. He stepped closer, feeling the warm, solid presence of her body brush against his thighs, his belly. She wore a waistcoat with fastenings too intricate to understand from his vantage point, looking down as he was at the mound of her breasts obscuring her waist. He tugged at the strap in the middle of her back and said, "Take this off."

She obeyed. And he felt a little thrill of power, seeing her strip the vest off and discard it while he still held her against his chest by her hair. Beneath her sheer blouse, the outline of her bra moved - up and down, up and down - with her breathing.

I want to see it, he thought. He ran his hand down the front of her shirt, intending to unbutton it. She went to help again, fingers blindly tugging at the mouths that held the mother of pearl beads. Neither had a steady hand, shaking. At last, impatient, terrified the spell might break and she would throw him out, he rushed it - stuffing his hand down the from of the v opening at her neck. His palm scraped over lace, made hot from contact with her flesh. Now he gasped, and involuntarily pressed against her, the swelling mound of his erection at her back.

She moaned again, urging him on. Her hands frozen in the buttons on her shirt.

He rubbed that forbidden garment, that prison of the flesh the elves reviled, feeling the curves and textures scrape against his skin. He dipped his fingers into the seam where skin met cloth, where her breast spilled over the top of the lace balcony, plunging into the warm, tight confine of the cup. He felt her nipple, hard and puckered, beneath the pads of his fingers. Reaching below the soft underside, he scooped the breast free, hoisting it out to lie atop the emptied lace cup.

From there, her hands resumed pulling, undoing, parting the buttons from the eye holes to give him more to see, to touch.

"Please," she whispered.

He sensed a moment of opportunity, some invitation to fulfill her secret desire. She wanted to be dominated. "Please, what?" he asked.

"T-touch m-me," she stammered, the red flush spreading out from under the black blindfold.

He tweaked the nipple of her loose breast, let go of her hair to wind the other arm around and cup the trapped one, pressing her back against him. She felt the full length of his hardened manhood now, forced down by the leggings, pointing along her back downward toward where her hourglass hips swept out from the spine.

Eiri wanted to shove himself into her, wanted to feel her softness yield. They were still standing, three feet from her canopied bed, a tangle of her clothes on the floor. He walked her over to its edge and pushed her down. Instinctively, her hands came out to catch herself and he saw another opportunity, another invitation. He reached for her hands, clasped them, pulled them back behind her, using one hand to pin them together at the small of her back.

She shifted beneath him, a shadow of her strength threatening to unbalance him. He lifted his hips and realized she was positioning her knees underneath her, lifting her ass to him, the seat of her slacks pulled tight against her apple shaped buttocks. He sat back, half-kneeling against the bed, to take the in the sight of it, breath catching.

"Touch me," she pleaded.

He obeyed, reaching out to place a hand against her ass, fitting the downward arc of his fingers to the innermost curve of her buttock. His index finger went along the seam of the pants, down to where the heat of her sex warmed it. She made a strangled noise, a high and furious grunt.

What does she want, Eiri wondered. His own desire clouded his mind, depriving him of critical thought. There was only the ass in his face, the wrists writhing beneath his hand. What he wanted overcame his rational mind and he grasped her inner thigh, pushing her hips over to one side. He let go of her hands and went for the closed fasteing at her navel, pulling, ripping to undo the catches. Hauling the pants down, the thin slip of lace panties caught in the tangle.

He saw foam white skin from mid thigh to belly, a dollop of reddish chestnut curls swirled over the mound of her sex. The beauty of it stunned him a moment, and then his eyes traveled above the magnificent expanse, to the sight of her bunched up blouse, one breast hanging loose from the froth of the lace bra. Then on to her face, half shrouded in silk, the hair scattered from her braid tangled around it.

Her mouth open, panting in excitement. The sharp white fangs grazing the wet surface of her tongue.

He lost his erection. Falling into a panic, Eiri stalled, running his hands down her stomach, over her thighs. Her skin was smooth and warm - like any human woman's. But though he stared at the things that aroused him, he couldn't forget what she was. Vampire. Other.

"Lao..." she breathed, uncertain. Her hands moved from underneath her, tensing, ready to move upward to take off the blindfold and trap him with her hypnotic gaze.

Eiri slapped a hand on her thigh, hard, and she cried out, parting her legs at the force of it. He saw, between the curls, a bit of pink, and set his fingers there, feeling the silk of labia slick with desire. A finger, lost between its folds, set her to trembling. "Lao," she said again, louder, encouraging.

He inserted a second finger, easily, thrusting them deep into her canal. She pressed her hips up, bit her lips, the fangs peeking over the pink edges. He shoved a third finger in, twisting.

Does she really like this? He wondered, amazed. The wet between her legs said yes, but the tightening expression on her face threatened an impending no. He decided to ask her, "Do you like it?"

She made the sound again, something between a woman's cry and an animal's growl.

He pumped his fingers in her, milking her pleasure, rotating his wrist so that his thumb could tease the hard bud tucked into the peak of her vulva. "Do you? Do you, Madam Director?"

She hissed, baring her teeth. The fangs ever present.

Eiri was uncomfortable, now, desiring an end. There was no chance of bringing his erection back. No polite way to remove his hand from her sex and declare himself done. He couldn't bear the thought of her eyes on him, the disappointment there. So he shut his mouth, worked his fingers, grazed his thumb rhythmically over her swollen clit, and was relieved to see her shudder with release, drenching his palm with her pleasure.

He turned his back to her, as she removed her blindfold, tucked her breast back into the bra. "Nothing for you?"

"No," he said. "I'm tired."

She didn't believe him. Why would she when she could read his thoughts? But she did not press him to say more. She rested her hands on his shoulders, drew him back onto the bed, his feet still on the floor. Eiri closed his eyes, afraid to see her looking at him.

"You're afraid? I did say I wouldn't feed on you."

"It's more than that..."

She stretched out beside him, fitted her body against his, legs brushing his hips. Lying down together, he truly felt how much smaller she was than him - shorter, narrower. Delicate. When they got up from the bed, he wouldn't notice. She would be the Director, a vampire, powerful and imposing with her liquid stare, her knowing silence.

She reached out, tracing a finger along his check. "Tell me your thoughts. I'd rather not read them."

"You said something about power in relationships," he said, temporizing, drawing out the time between responses so that he could collect his thoughts. The feel of her skin on his calmed him. The tickle of her clothes piqued him - linen, cotton. Soft, yielding fibers. "Where is the power here?"

She took a long time to answer. "I am one of fifteen children of the Vampire Max Ipomoea. When I first became his child, there were fifty-six. Every so often, we are culled. Our weaknesses are exploited. The strong adapt. The weak die off. My... preferences are especially challenging to my survival. You have nothing to fear from me. Hurt me. Beat me. Bind me. I'll never retaliate. Command me, as if you were my master, and I'll obey."

He drew his fingers over her hair, ran the tip of one over the curve of her ear. She turned her face to his torso, kissed him through the thin cotton, wetting a small circle beneath her tongue just between his ribs. She rested a hand on his chest, ran it down over his belly.

"Try me," she murmured. The pressure of her palm rested just below his navel. "Command me. Tell me what to do to please you."

Eiri's head spun. He couldn't believe what she was saying - but he wanted to. The pressure, the monotony, the stress of his job weighed on him. The anxiety he felt, being the plaything of beings far beyond his capacity to understand or best, fed his frustration. Having - at last - a place to vent it was something that tempted him past the point of reason.

He decided to test her. "Take off all your clothes."

She shifted, sitting up. The rest of her buttons came undone and the silk blouse peeled down her back. She reached to undo the hooks of the bra, and he stopped her with a hand. "Leave that on." The black lace against her stark white skin mezmorized him.

The Director stood up from the bed, and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the pants and panties still bunched around her thighs. She bent down to pull the pants off, wiggling her buttocks to shimmy off the fabric.

Eiri sat up, following the side-to-side movement of the fleshy white mounds with his eyes, just inches from his face. He rested his hands on her hips, turning her to face him, keeping his eyes fixed on her stomach, her thighs, the thatch of curly red-brown hair between her legs. He kissed the round of her belly just below her navel and felt her trembling beneath his fingers.

"On your knees."

She obeyed.

"Put your hands behind your back."

She obeyed again, without hesitation.

The possibilities tumbled through his mind, each sending another jolt of blood to his cock. He felt it stirring, rising. But in the back of his mind, the teeth.

Eiri realized he was still wearing his shoes. He pushed one foot out, the woven plant fiber gleaming dully in the light of the votive candles. "Kiss it."

To reach, she had to shift backward on her knees, raise her hips into the air. With her head all the way down, her ass pointed upward, hands clasped at the small of her back. To keep her balance, she had to spread her legs and he saw those magnificent cheeks spreading, the defile between them widening.

He felt the pressure as she pressed her lips to his shoe. She'd really done it - the vampire was kissing his foot! His cock swelled and he reached for the closure of his leggings, freeing himself. His erect phallus sprang up and he took it in his hand. He saw a quick movement, a move of her head. He nudged her face with his shoe, "Keep your head down!"

"Forgive me, Master..." she whispered, pressing her cheek to his foot.

"Lift your ass higher." He stroked himself. Each tiny movement she made to accommodate him, obey him, fed his desire. He pulled harder. "Sit up. Put your hands behind your head. Don't look at me."

The Director rocked back on her folded legs, resting her buttocks on her calves, lifting her torso. She was so close, her breasts grazed his knee as she rose. The sight of the curved glory surging into view, sent him over the edge - and he spent his passion onto her, coating her chest, dripping down onto her tits.

She sighed, shuddering, eyes fixed on his cock. Her mouth opened, the tongue sliding out. Before she could slide forward to lick him, he commanded, hoarsely, "No!"

He just couldn't get over the teeth.

Gasping, dizzy, Eiri rested a moment, watching her watch him. Then, he tucked himself back into the leggings, not caring at all if he stained them, wincing a little at the scrape of cotton on his raw shaft.

Sensing the encounter was over, she turned a little away from him. In a smooth, powerful motion, she rose to her feet. "My car will be waiting outside to take you home."

When he did not respond, she faced him, the blush gone from her cheeks. Staring down at him with those unfathomable eyes. The Director once more. The role reversal stunned him. He felt something like terror thread its way through his heart, and he mumbled a farewell to her naked stomach.

In her car on the way to the church that housed him, he wondered, What have I gotten into?

...

Inevitably, things got weird at work. He didn't catch sight of the Director in the halls for a day or more. And when she sat in on the cross-functional sync, her eyes were always on her phone whenever he spoke.

Eiri did not try to approach. Intrinsically, he understood that at work there would be what his mother called tatemae - the "outside face," a professional facade. Her inside face, honne - flushed, open-mouthed, begging - would only show itself in private, only at her will.

The balance of power frustrated him, even more so now than it had before their night together. Every snide remark from Hall, every badge swipe against paneled wooden doors, every rigid, constrained dynamic of his employment began to grate on him. Even typical human social convention annoyed him - Christy with her fake laugh, Alan and Jaymin with their aggressively heteronormative jokes meant to disguise their soulful glances at one another. No matter where he looked, "the rules" looked back at him, reminding him how powerless he was.

The soft launch test concluded, returning numbers below expectation. Eiri braced himself for the confrontation with Hall, expecting to see a one-on-one invite hit his calendar. Instead, he was called to the Director's office for a two-on-one - the frosted glass chamber with bowed sides, like a fishbowl. The one-touch opacity filter was off when he arrived; Hall wanted the whole of the office to see him get chewed out.

"Help me understand what I'm looking at," the elf began, holding up his phone to display the deltas, red and angry, hanging well over the black baseline marker. Eiri reached to take it from him, to see the screen more closely - but Hall jerked it back with a furious command, "Gloves!"

Eiri could not keep back a sigh as he turned to leave the room, go to his desk, and fetch the ultrasuede gloves used for handling proprietary product, and returned to the Director's office to find Hall sitting in one of the two cushioned seats on side of the the Director's desk. He was not invited to sit in the empty one.

Hall tossed him the phone. "Explain. Explain to the Director what happened here."

Eiri scrolled down, confirmed which of the tests Hall referenced - product recall, the weakest of the bunch. "Tests came back with lower-than-anticipated uptake. Where we fell down in recall–"

"Fell down?" Hall interrupted. "Dropped off a cliff, more like."

Eiri fought to remain calm, feeling his jaw tighten as he handed the phone back to Hall. When the elf refused to take it from him, he set it on the Director's desk. "Some lag in product recall is expected, given the limited scope of test titles. We knew that without a color association, the average coffee-drinker would..."

Hall snatched the phone from the desk and threw it at Eiri, narrowly missing his head. It bounced off the glass with a sharp bang, drawing the attention of every worker on the open floor beyond the pane. "We're not interested in the average coffee drinker. This is a high end product for a highly sensitive audience. That's been our market focus from day one. Is that hard for you to recall?"

The Director said nothing. Did not even react throughout Hall's tantrum. Eiri glanced at her three times while appealing to Hall's logic, correcting his hyperbole, redirecting his anger. Never once did she return his gaze. But, at last, when Hall had risen to his feet, threatening to cancel the entire project, she interjected, "That's enough. You've aired your grievances. Now pick up your phone, and take a walk to cool off. Lao and I will align on next steps."

Hall rounded on her, like a bear rearing on its hind legs to attack. But the Director fixed her eyes on him, and Eiri felt sure she was pressing the elf with her vampiric persuasion. "Take. A. Walk," she said.

Hall left. As the door swung shut behind him, the Director touched something on her phone to frost the glass to full opacity. Alone, shielded from the eyes of others, Eiri started to relax, and take a breath.

But then the Director stood and came around the desk to kneel at his feet. He saw a flash of white skin, the delicate patch just above the inside of the knee, and realized she wore a slitted pencil skirt, not her usual suit pants. Kneeling as she was, he could see the tender white underside of her thigh, a triangle of red lace formed by her panties as the fabric pressed against her.

"I've missed you... Master," she said, shyly.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said. He hadn't meant to say it, but the tension broke him, his hot anger surfacing between the shards of his fractured calm. "Now?"

She looked up. He saw high spots of color on her cheeks - the beginnings of embarrassment. "Why not? He thinks I'm punishing you. Why not use the opportunity to punish me instead?"

"Get up," Eiri insisted, rising. "You can't be serious right now."

She stood, tilting her head back to look up at him. He did not like her eyes on him. Don't you push me like you pushed him...! But even though he could not swear she compelled him, he felt his body stir, starting to respond.

"You want to, don't you?" she asked. "You're angry - I can see it. Let loose. Let me enjoy it."

"Enjoy it?" Insulted, he grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake. "You think I enjoy this?"

The spots spread over her cheeks. She smiled, the tips of her fangs just peeking over her lower lip. He couldn't stand the sight of them. He spun her around, pushing her. She collided with the desk, fell forward. Artfully pushing her ass toward him, the skirt tightening around her hips, her rounded buttocks. His cock stirred at the sight of it.

Eiri let his anger guide him, slapping her ass with one hand, hard. She gasped in surprise at the foce of it, bracing her hands on the tabletop to steady herself. He reached for her right arm, pulled it behind her, twisting.

"You enjoy this," he accused her. "This is for you." He spanked, hard.

"I do," she groaned, a soft, desperate noise choked out between the slaps. "I do enjoy it."

He smacked her firm butt a few more times, not caring if the sound carried beyond the glass. She writhed and wriggled under him, somehow managing to thrust her hips back further with each punishing spank. Furious that she was enjoying his rage, he grabbed the split hem of her skirt and yanked it up over her hips, tearing it.

"Lao," she breathed, startled. "That's expensive–"

He ignored her protests, grasping the band of the red panties sitting over the defile of her ass, and yanking them down around her thighs. The sight of her backside exposed was even more thrilling than his memories of it, and he paused to savor the sight, feeling the throb in his groin. He hated himself for it, and struck her bare buttocks twice more, one blow for each cheek. It left barely a mark. She moaned again.