Thoughts and Musings

The Calling, prequel part 1

The first time I saw her I almost made a mess of myself. I was in the club and had just come off the dance floor. There she was, standing there like a dream come true, her dark auburn eyes searching for something. Her essence was so pure and so sweet I almost came before I realized she had seen me for what I was.

That’s not the beginning of this story though. This story actually starts in Cerdon, in a chateaux, at 1900 hours.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Five decades of my life had been solely dedicated to the students and staff of L’Ecole. Without the constant help and support of my fellow teachers and peers, I would have died an insane teenager in the middle of New York with a trail of blood behind me. Without the headmaster, Stephan, I never would have learned control.

Control had been my most trusted friend and companion for more years than I liked to count. I kept my instincts at bay and my control at the forefront of every thought I had, every movement I made, and every word I spoke.

Control was exactly what was on my mind in the basement of the chateaux that belonged to my dates that night. His name was Michel, a Frenchman, and his wife was Sarah, a Londoner. They had been my standing Tuesday night for nearly a year.

Being a werewolf, women had always been attracted to me. My pheromones alone excited the ball of nerves below each woman’s belt and made them slick as a water slide beneath their under garments. Picking up women had never been a challenge.

Neither was picking up men. Being an incubus meant even the most heterosexual man would let me into his bed. I didn’t have the luxury of being too picky, Cerdon wasn’t a huge metropolis full of potential dinners, so I only had one rule about my lovers: no couples that had kids. I wasn’t in the business of destroying families.

Couples were a better dinner than a single. I could more easily satisfy my internal, soul-sucking hunger with two lovers than with just one, so my preference tended toward couples.

Michel and Sarah were a favorite for me. They were willing participants in this façade of mine. They knew I needed them for my supper–they were the God-parents of one of my students–but they liked the excitement of our dates and I always gave them a gift before I left. Their relationship had never been so good. The last year with me had strengthened their sex-life more than 25 years of marriage had.

I had one rule once I was in a person’s bed: sixty minutes and not a single minute more.

Michel and Sarah had always respected my rule. They had always respected me in general. Like I said, they were a favorite.

I arrived at their house at 18:00 on the nose. They had converted their basement into an adult playroom just after our second date. Michel answered the door with a happy smile. He was always thrilled to see me: my gift to a middle-aged man was better than Viagra.

“Hey Alex!” he grasped my hand and kissed my cheeks.

We used English with each other, but ecstasy always devolved the human mind to its mother-tongue. Michel didn’t speak a word of English in the basement but that was all Sarah could manage.

Sarah greeted me inside with a kiss and a glass of red wine. “Hey, Cher.”

“How was your week?” I asked, sipping her offering.

She shrugged and smirked. “It’s been uneventful. How was yours? Anthony doing any better?”

Anthony was their God-son. I usually gave them an update. “He gets better every day. He started group therapy this week.”

Sarah smirked lustily. “He has a great teacher.” She ran her hand along my arm, my pheromones were beginning to work their magic on her.

I kissed her hand and pulled her toward the basement. I wrapped Michel in a blanket of my hunger. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. He followed me, a willing participant, but he couldn’t have stopped himself. I was irresistible. Without my control, I could have easily killed them both, but that was not in my plans. I loved them both too much to let my control slip.

I spent the next hour feeding my incubus and my werewolf. I had to keep both halves of my soul in balance, feeding either side too much could leave me vulnerable to a relapse in my control.

Michel and Sarah were both in their happy places when my alarm sounded. I pulled back and turned my alarm off. Sarah breathlessly grabbed my hand and squeezed; Michel lightly slapped my bare ass. This was their way of saying goodbye.

It was exactly 19:00 when a piercing scream rang through my head. It stopped me in my tracks, too close to Sarah and Michel. My incubus raged against my control. The couple I had spent so much time grooming were suddenly in more danger than ever.

The scream stopped and was replaced by a smooth, inviting voice. “Come to me, children. Come your father. Come to me, Alex. I need you.”

My knees felt weak, I stumbled and fell. Michel grabbed me and spoke, but all I could hear was the voice of my father. “Come to me, Alex. Come to me.”

My control slipped just a modicum. The incubus within took the freedom and latched onto Michel. He couldn’t fight me, his sudden orgasm fed my greedy demon. Sarah gasped and caught the my attention. I felt myself latching onto her again, she orgasmed immediately, my demon purring at her pleasure, soaking it up like a cat lapping at cream.

“Come to me, Alex. Or they will die.”

Without my consent or control I fed from my victims. The pleasure of their imminent deaths encompassed me. I couldn’t fight it. My control had lapsed and my incubus had gained untethered freedom.

“Come to me, Alex. They are dying.”

Sarah moaned. Michel whimpered. He’d been coming for too long. He would die soon if this didn’t stop.

“I’m coming.” I barely managed to regain myself enough to speak.

Then my control snapped back into place. My incubus raged when I shoved it back into its cage, releasing my lovers from their prison.

Air slammed back into my lungs, relieving the burn, giving me my hearing back. Sarah sobbed beside me, Michel groaned, rolling over to her.

“I’m sorry.”

Rats scratched at my throat. I tried to clear them out, but the scratching continued unabated. I was panting.

“Get out,” Sarah croaked. “Just leave, Alex. Go.”

I wouldn’t argue. I pulled myself up and retreated. I had to go.

I had to go to my father.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s