First Date

A warning right off the bat! This story is extremely, extremely fucked up (excuse the language). It isn’t for those with a weak stomach or a fragile nervous system. So there. You have been warned - proceed at your own risk! Blood, gore, death…a bit of sex (of course, this is AFF we are talking about).

The First Date

There’s never a second date.

They always approach me first. They come up to me in bars, the subway, or sometimes just on the street. They always tell me I have beautiful eyes. I smile and make conversation. As long as they aren’t a complete loss, I never turn down a date.

And so, here we are - out at the most expensive restaurant in town. He is wearing his best clothes, his best cologne…He is on his best behavior. We have a witty, polite conversation. He pays for everything that can possibly be paid for. He asks me questions and looks very interested in what I have to say. I don’t tell him much though - I want to seem sexy and mysterious. The candlelight and the unobtrusive, quiet music in this nice restaurant really set the right mood. His ebony eyes lock onto my face as he asks me to dance.

On the dance floor, he is supportive yet courteous – staying close, yet keeping a comfortable distance. Now that we are so close, I can smell something beyond the Creed Neroli Sauvage he is wearing – underneath the intoxicating mixture of orange flower, Sicilian lemon and Italian grapefruit I can smell what is uniquely him. His strong, musky scent is making my head spin. I’ve always loved men with dark hair – they smell like fire in a northern forest, like the scorching desert sand, like primal, raw lust. I want him to be bolder with me. I dig my nails into his back, drawing his body towards mine. I feel him tense underneath my daring touch; his eyes narrow in response to my sensual challenge. I already know how this will end.

****

And here we are, out at this seedy joint. He is wearing a torn up leather jacket with an orange t-shirt underneath. His lopsided, toothy grin screams “I’m horny!” The way his blue eyes glaze over when they settle into the depths of my cleavage tells the same story. I'm wearing the sluttiest outfit I could find. The blonde man draws me into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He doesn’t even bother with conversation anymore. I can smell Axe on him - cheap but effective, I must admit. And underneath the Axe, I can smell sunshine, the heady scent of the sea, the raw power contained within this animal of a man. His strong arms wind around my waist. I already know how this will end.

***

In fact, it always ends the same. We stumble into my dark apartment, without bothering to lock the door or break the kiss we are sharing. We make our way into the bedroom or the kitchen or sometimes, it happens right there, in the hallway…A little pain and a whole lotta lust. Most of them are surprised to find that my hair is, indeed, naturally pink. Also, most are too far gone at this point to be gentle – and I don’t want them to be. I want to be taken in the full sense of the word. As they drive into me – be it a blond or a brunet; a rich, spoiled brat or a tough, street kid – I can feel their hunger. It is the same as mine – I hunger for their flesh. I sink my teeth into their shoulders, necks, whatever I can find in a tangled mess that are our bodies. I rake my nails down their backs, leaving bloody tracks in my wake. The metallic smell fills the air but they never pay attention. They don’t give a damn: they’re too busy fucking me. I begin to get angry. I scream. I thrash. Not one had ever stopped to ask me what was the matter – they just assume I’m enjoying myself. Like hell! I hate being ignored!

I push them off and run to grab my trusty hatchet. I return. I watch them scream and trash like I just did. Good! But I am a lot nicer then them – I never ignore a single plea or yell. I strike every time. Some die quickly, some seem to be hell-bent on getting out of my apartment. One guy tried to crawl away without his left leg. It still makes me laugh to think about it.

Once I’m finished, I slice them up into tiny, tiny cute little pieces and put them into bags. Then I take the bags downstairs and put them into my freezer. I do all of this naked. That must seem really strange to most people. I think a neighbor saw me one time. The neighbors must think I’m a total slut for bringing a different man home every night. But I’m not. I just have terrible luck when it comes to dating.

I always wonder why they never call again. Perhaps next time I should stick a phone into the freezer as well.

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The end (Aren’t you glad you made it? :D )

This story, obviously, in no way reflects my own personal beliefs or practices. Just an odd plot bunny that wouldn’t leave me alone. Review! Please :D.