Bittersweet
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The subtle movements of the Countess would never betray her anxiousness. She had gone several days without feeding, very unlike her. Weakness was never a feeling the better-than-thou Ventrue would accept willingly.

Her thoughts casually drift to Joel. It seemed he had made himself scarce as of late. Maybe that was a good thing. Things were just too quiet.

The Lamborghini roared to life at her command, as she tore down the familiar path to the stadium. The construction crew finished. Cleaning, painting and misc. other contractors were close to complete. Decorators, finicky about lighting rarely worked at this time of night, but Marcilla was anxious. The finished product dangled sweetly like the carrot before the horse. The car slid into the parking lot of the stadium, and the Countess was pleased tosee some lights still burned. Pleased that someone was earning the pay she was shelling out.

Slipping the keys in her hand bag, she approached the lower level concession stand, that was being inventoried for opening. The young freckle faced boy was startled as the sound of her heels clacked and echoed, amplified by the empty stadium. The boy is obviously taken, stunned by her beauty and blushes a tone close to the ruddy hue of burnished crimson locks, that layed in perfect layers off his face.

He never takes his eyes off hers, well, aside from that fleeting moment they traveled down her thin form. He had no reason to fear the almost frail looking woman. Of course innocence is bliss. Casually she leans over the still polished stainless steel counter. Its temperature strikingly close to that of her flesh, as her breasts threaten to spill from the bodice of her velvet dress, giving him a view down the cleft of her cleavage. Leaning close to him, she whispers so he must strain to hear. "Are you going to be working here Young Man?"

"No Ma`am" He replies, to which she responds. "Too bad." while forcing a look of disappointment. (She would hate to loose someone on the payroll, unless he had become a liability of course) His obvious confusion is displayed as obviously as his desire for her. She intentionally licks her lips, wetting them as she breaths in his breath. reaching forward her finger tips trail lightly over his shoulder, then slide playfully under his chin, lifting it with a single fingertip. "Don't let me stop you from your work..." Her voice trails off, suggesting just the opposite as she pulls him slightly closer. Her movements are intentionally slow as she slides her hands down his arm, then lifting it to her. Carefully she turns his palm upward, and kisses him softly before nipping gently and licking quickly. She had to taste, first, despite her hunger. Control was a way of life for the blue blood. Savoring the sweet feel of him, warm upon her tongue, she bites eagerly into his wrist. He of course cries out startled, before he becomes lost in the rapture. In all her 300+years, that was her favorite part. Ecstasy and fear are such kindred emotions. She suckled the poor soul dry, before taking a butcher knife and slicing his wrists open with short jagged edges. Experience teaches that the suicidal will not make a single deep slash, but several short ones as the mind wavers upon indecision.

She lets him fall into the stainless steel deep sink, and turns on the faucet, leaving the water in a slow trickle, to wash away the (absent) blood...

You could have measured the look of surprise on her face with a microscope when the concession owner came to her door personally, to apologize for the "scene" and the "delay" that the stock clerks death was going to cause. His rugged good looks and strong features only gained a simple glance as She blew him off with a dismissive wave, asking how soon things would be back on schedule. The bottom line was foremost. When

he explained that he was a subcontractor and that the boy was his nephew, her expression changed. Her words fell in soothing tones of sincere concern as she crossed to her desk and proceeded to write the man a check for his loss. Being shrewd in business didn't mean she was heartless she replied casually.

When she handed him the check with 4 zeros, he seemed appreciative. It was a reasonable "life-insurance-payoff" amount. Only at this close moment did he pause long enough to look to her lustfully. When her fingertip causally touched his wrist in the "thank you" shake she could feel the race of his heart. When he attempted to kiss her hand she turned away, facing one of the open French doors. She fought the smile when he approached her from behind and stood very close apologizing profusely.

The feel of his hot breath called to her, as his words are spoken in desperation. Was the tone one of fear of having displeased the generous and intimidating Countess? Or was it...

...the all-too-familiar scent of pheromones reveals the truth and seals his fate as she turns with languid feline grace and offers him a sad smile. She looks softly into his eyes, and gently strokes his cheek. With a timid glaze in her eyes she invites his passionate kiss he so generously offers. His look of surprise when she actually slid down his body to her knees was marked with an ecstatic moan. Small hands slide down his waist and unfasten his pants. He eager to help her slips them over his hips, so they fall around his ankles. How kind of him to even spread his legs for her as she leaned into him, placing a soft kiss upon his inner thigh before biting deeply. At that moment she could even recall the taste of the young nephew's blood as if it were only yesternight. Of course, because it was. She didn't really mean to drain him completely, but he was such a tasty mortal, er morsel. When hefainted to the floor and she followed his path, draining the last of him, she was almost disappointed.

Almost, but in the scheme of things, she was simply at the top of the food chain. As she rose and licked his blood still hot from her lips, she called to James. Calmly she retrieves the mans wallet, and finds exactly what she is looking for, the express service card, with the account number and the name of his bank. She then tells him exactly what to do with the body.

"James, fist I want you to deposit this check (indicating the one she wrote for the death of the nephew). It shouldn't be too difficult to tell the Bank President that you wish to deposit it into this man's account for the loss of his dear nephew, on behalf of your/his employer. Toss his wallet in the Dumpster behind Club Penumbra, with no cash or credit cards. Burn those, give him a few good stab wounds with a butcher knife, then dump the body near where they found the body of the hooker a few weeks ago. What a bargain, two for the price of one today James. "