Ah Paris! From: 'Bridget's Nights'
(I do enjoy it when Bridget drops by and spends the evening relating more of her experiences to me. This time she concentrated on tales of her times passing through Paris. If you have never met my little Irish vampiress before you can find my changes to the vampire mythos pretty well explained by her in the first chapter of "Bridget's Nights". Thank you Marian for taking time to read the story and offer suggestions and corrections.)
I flung open the doors leading out onto the balcony. The cool morning air flowed around me and opened my eyes as I leaned against the wrought iron railing. I surveyed my immediate surroundings and then let my gaze wander along down the street and lift to rest on the landmarks. From this upper floor apartment I could see the spires of the great cathedral of Notre Dame. If I looked farther I could see the morning sun reflecting from the water in a bend of the Seine River. And there was the tip of the Eiffel Tower. I grinned, remembering when it was brand new and what a stir it caused.
I stood at the bottom of the pile of steel girders, craning my neck in an attempt to see the top of the structure. I couldn't. Of course it WAS night but then really, its not like I had a choice when I could visit. Vampires like me aren't much on day visits.
I had watched this tower go up for the last two years. Eiffel nearly ended up building it in Barcelona, Spain for the Universal Exposition of 1888 but the city council there decided against it. Instead it was here, the entrance arch for the Exposition Universelle. Celebrating the 100th anniversary of the French Revolution, there's nothing like a massive get together of people from all over to draw your average vampire to Paris. Not that we need much drawing. Paris is one of our favorite cities.
I look at that statement and roll my eyes. It makes it sound like vampires are some unified society ready to take over the world ala "Blade". Not hardly. First, there aren't enough of us. We really are pretty rare and most of us like that just fine. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, for pretty obvious reasons. Second, one thing that we pretty much have in common is that we are all individualists. You couldn't get enough of us together in one place to take over a city block much less the world. Besides, we'd be fighting each other the whole time.
Still, I had run across a couple of friends. Great crowds draw us for obvious reasons. I had spotted Samuel and Dolores, together of course as they had been for over a hundred years, but we were swept apart before having time to do more than wave at each other. That was okay though, what is time to us?
I was staring up at the tower when a snort close at hand brought me back to reality. I could have blushed had my body been capable of such a thing. I knew I must look like a country bumpkin, standing in awe of a structure, even one as breathtaking as this one. But after all, in some ways I was still the little Irish tavern girl I had been so long ago. I had traveled East and West, North and South, far more than most people would ever dream of, but I still was Michael and Mary O'Brien's youngest daughter and I WAS a country bumpkin.
Still, I was also going on two hundred and fifty years old and one thing that didn't impress me much was people. I turned and lifted an eyebrow.
"Was that a comment you were trying to make?" I inquired of the man I was now facing even as I looked him over. Not bad looking, around forty with a flowing mustache and a small chin tuft of a beard. He was of normal height, seemed a little thin and there was a fire in his eyes that attracted me to him immediately. I adore passionate people.
"I was referring to this monstrosity and to your adoration of it as though it was some primeval god."
"I vaguely sense a slight distaste for this structure." I indicated the tower with a wave of my hand.
For a moment I thought the man was going to explode. He took a deep breath, fixed me with a stern look and opened his mouth to deliver what I was pretty sure was going to be virulent diatribe. Then he relaxed and a twinkle crept into his eyes.
"Perhaps a bit more than slight." He surveyed me approvingly. "You almost had me. You have that wide-eyed innocent look perfected. But there was just a hint of mischief lurking behind it."
"Why thank you." I batted my eyes in the approved fashion I had learned early in the century when I was living in Savannah and Charleston in the States. A deep chuckle and an invitation to supper were both forthcoming. I accepted.
I ate dinner, or rather pushed the food around on the plate a lot and swallowed enough to make it look like I was eating. Food doesn't nourish me. This was delicately seasoned in the best traditions of fine French dinning and it was completely wasted on me. I felt like I was eating cardboard for all it did for me.
But the conversation now, that made it all worth while. Guy, as I learned his name was, turned out to be an author, and had tremendous wide-ranging interests and a marvelous sense of humor. The talk was wonderful, as was the subtle but delicious flirting that he commenced with me. Okay, yes, the French have their faults, but they do excel at seduction.
We talked most of the night away, until the cafe closed and we were literally pushed out the door. However I had snagged one more bottle of wine on the way. It seemed a marvelous idea to sneak over the closed gate of the iron steps and fumble our way up to the observation deck of what Guy still insisted was an eyesore and a blot on Paris.
"At least I don't have to look at it when I'm in the middle of it."
He did grudgingly admit that the view of Paris was spectacular. There was also a growing light in his eyes that indicated that perhaps he found me of interest too. I tried to confirm that interest with a look from my own eyes that took in his entire body. The frock style coat he was wearing did little to hide the erection straining against his pants.
He set the bottle of wine down and took me in his arms, kissing me. Now wine I can appreciate and the taste of his mouth was that of the best Burgundy grapes. I rubbed my body against his and yes, definitely he had a hardon that was threatening to tear the front of his pants.
I hoisted up my long skirt and dropped to my knees. Thank heavens the days of the bustle were now twenty years behind us. I never could have been that quick with THAT monstrosity riding my ass. Now it was long flowing skirts and tight bodices. There probably were rules that said I was supposed to wear something under all that material but rules have never worried me.
It only took moments to free Guy's cock and have it spring out at me. I admired it as I ran my tongue over the purple head and teased the slit. He must have enjoyed it nearly as much as I did for his fingers locked in my hair and his deep moans urged me on.
I slid my mouth over him, working down slowly, keeping a close grip on his shaft with my lips. I braced my hands on his hips, which were already rocking as he began to feed me his cock. The head bumped against the back of my mouth and I adjusted the angle of my body so I could take it down the opening of my throat.
Not for the first time, or come to think of it probably not even the hundredth or two hundredth time, I enjoyed the fact that I don't have to breathe. It does make giving blow jobs a lot easier and more fun for both me and whomever I happen to be with at the moment.
Guy was certainly enjoying it. After a few frantic thrusts down my throat he had settled down to a nice and slow but deep rhythm. He would draw back until the head was just inside my mouth and then slide his swelling cock forward until his balls could slap gently against my chin. His fingers in my hair held me without being overly demanding. I was enjoying it too. I do like rough sex in its place, but I prefer to build up to it.
Since Guy was doing all the work I fumbled my skirt up until I had it bunched around my waist and I could finger myself. I don't have a lot of natural moisture, probably for the same reason that I don't perspire. Those parts of my body just don't work since I am, after all, dead. So I need to work at it. Being fucked dry, and I certainly planned on Guy either finishing inside me or being able to go another round, isn't any more pleasant for me than it is for any woman.
I didn't have to imagine anything. The situation I was in was all I needed as my fingers danced over and then inside myself. Guy's breathing was getting ragged and the tempo of his thrusts was starting to build. He was swelling in my mouth and I could feel him beginning to shake. I tightened the grip of my lips on his cock and increased the slight suction I had already been applying to him.
I heard Guy groan and I got ready. There was a slight salty dribble and then his cum hit the back of my mouth. I was ready and greedily swallowed the stream as fast as he released it.
He softened in my mouth and I feared that the evening was over. Then he withdrew and whispered for me to get on my hands and knees.
Well I only have to be asked once. I settled into that position, my dress still hiked up out of the way and with a marvelous view of Paris below me. I sensed him behind me and then his tongue brushed my pussy and I lowered my head to hike my rear end in the air.
He gripped my hips and went to town on me. His tongue seemed to touch me everywhere. Now it slid over my wetness and now it plunged inside me and wiggled like a snake. It lapped at my ever increasingly wet slit and then curled under my hood and teased my clit to hardness. However he managed to reach where he did I don't know but soon I was bucking back against his face as hard as he had e...