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Tamara was a whore. No amount of arguing with her mother would change that fact. She went out every evening to be paid to have sex with men. And paid well mind you. She was a professional after all. Now it was 5am and she was heading home. The night didn’t go too badly. At least she didn’t get beat up by her pimp this time. Shanda did though, for trying to take all the cash for herself. Silly Girl!
Tamara opened the doors to the building where her apartment was in downtown Nineteen. Checked the mailbox and headed for the elevator.
In the shadows, a pair of red eyes watched from across the street. He’d been watching her for a week now and knew when she’d be coming home. He crossed the street.
Tamara exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to No. 31, her apartment. She opened the door and entered.
The elevator doors opened and he entered the hallway. He looked around and heard her apartment door close. He moved towards the sound.
Chink! “Damn” she thought as the light bulb blew. She dumped her bag and walked into the kitchen to get another bulb. “Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!” she swore. No more bulbs. Absently, she wrote “light bulbs” on her shopping list then headed for the bathroom.
He stood outside the door and listened for a moment. He heard movement, then a door closed and the shower started. He looked around and then slowly transformed himself into mist, sliding underneath the apartment door.
The room was dark. It took him a few moments to adjust to the strange lighting. He heard her singing in the bathroom. He smiled and went into the bedroom.
Ten minutes later, she was ready for bed. She walked out of the bathroom, naked except for a towel around her head and into the bedroom. She dried her hair, brushed it and laid down to sleep making sure the alarm was set for 6pm.
He came out of the shadows, walking quietly around the bed, watching her. She stirred and he put out a hand, gently reassuring her. She settled down, a faint smile on her face.
He went to the edge of the bed, closest to her alabaster neck. He smiled, two small incisors were visible in the ruddy light off the street. No sound she made when he lent over her. No movement she made when those teeth sank into her skin, and he drank. Slowly, deeply. Savouring the sweetness of her blood.
The cops found her still smiling, two days later.