“Oh, mon Dieu. Tellement bon. Plus. S’il vous plait!” The sound of the flight attendant’s bliss, whispered in her native French, was like silk against my ears. “Oh god. So good. More. Please!”

I adored the language. More than any other dialect on Earth, French was the voice of all that is sex and sensuality. Under better circumstances, I would have been tempted to drive her rising pleasure to the edge of madness, just to hear her scream for release in that beautiful, silken tongue.

“So good,” she panted, rolling her hips on my lap and leaning forward to give me a wondrous view of her full, pale bottom peeking out from beneath the navy-blue skirt bunched carelessly up around her hips. “Magnifique.”

I reached up to gently wrap the fingers of one hand around her throat and pulled her head back to rest on my shoulder. My other hand roamed across the open expanse of her unbuttoned blouse, teasing and pinching at her exposed nipples. My lips brushed against her ear.

“Quietly,” I commanded.

The change was immediate. No more words spilled from her lovely mouth. Only soft mewling sounds rising from her throat and the gentle slap of flesh could be heard as she impaled herself on me time and again.

It was a necessary, if unfortunate, precaution, given the less than ideal circumstances of this, our first encounter. Necessary because the wall of the private jet between the passenger compartment and cockpit was likely not soundproof and I did not wish to distract the pilot from his duties. Unfortunate, because her French accent had been the first thing to attract my interest. Thus, discretion was a necessary precaution at thirty thousand feet above the earth.

A pity, to be sure. I longed to hear her scream words of pure sexual abandon in that beautiful language. To thrash naked beneath my touch and babble in helpless, incoherent bliss.

Later, I promised myself. Once we were safely on the ground and in the privacy of my hotel suite. When there was time to attend to such things properly. For now, we would both simply have to make do with a mere taste of the many boundless pleasures to come.

Quietly, of course.

I felt her sex tighten around my shaft as I slid with steady strokes into her warm body. She began to spasm with the first signs of her imminent climax and tremors washed through her lovely body. I caressed the curves of her flesh with my fingers and the pleasure centers of her mind with my will, stoking the fires of need into a long, gentle bloom of orgasm. A soft wail rattled in her throat. It was all the poor woman could manage under the constraints of my previous compulsion.

When the wave of pleasure finally began to recede, she fell back against my chest, gasping for breath. Beads of sweat rolled down into the valley between her naked, heaving breasts. My lap was damp with her sexual fluids. Slowly, those lovely, brown eyes came back into focus. She moved her hips and gasped to find my cock still hard and still firmly buried in her wet depths.

“You didn’t... ?”

I smiled and kissed her neck. “Non, ma cherie. We are only just getting started.”

My left hand drifted down between widespread legs. The other held her to my chest by the throat. I began to move inside her with purpose as my fingers brushed against her clit.

She whimpered and writhed on me. “I ... oh god ... not again...”

Distracted as she was, Marie, the French flight attendant, never saw it coming. My fangs pierced the smooth skin of her neck with a soft pop. She panicked, of course. They always do at first, but never for very long.

Vampire venom grows more potent with age and mine was quite powerful. The effect was almost immediate. As her blood spilled, hot and sweet, into my mouth, toxin began to saturate through the tissue of her brain, rendering her ever more compliant and suggestible to my control.

In that moment, we were one. I could taste the faint, poisonous flavor of the menthol cigarette she had smoked before take-off and the hot wash of shame that came with it that she could not find the strength to quit for good. Her feet, pulsing with a dull pain from standing in heels all day, were my feet. The sweet pressure of my phallus filling her body was mine to experience as well.

Me into her. Her into me. A union of such deep intimacy that few mortals will ever experience. The blessing and bane of my world.

I was the musician and her body was my instrument. Together, we wove a carnal, primal music of flesh, and blood, and soul. I focused the entirety of my thoughts into that connection.

Cum for me.

Euphoria washed through her bloodstream, stimulating her every erogenous zone all at once, and pushing her over the edge into a second, more powerful orgasm of almost agonizing pleasure. This time we climaxed together. I gave her my seed even as I took her blood. Emptying myself into her warm, welcoming body and drinking just enough to ease my hunger and do her no lasting harm. Me into her. Her into me.

A lick of my tongue closed the two small wounds as she lay twitching from post-orgasmic pleasure in the circle of my arms. They would be entirely healed in a matter of days with no permanent damage done. By then I would be nothing more than a half-remembered fever dream. At best a vague bi-product of a healthy, sexually active, young woman’s imagination.

I turned her head toward me and looked into her unfocused eyes. “You will remember nothing of this encounter except an acknowledgment of mutual attraction. You will quit smoking cigarettes and this time you will succeed in kicking the habit, once and for all. You will clean up and return to your duties feeling stronger, healthier, and happier. Before the plane has landed, you will provide me with a phone number to call you later. Finally, you will clean me up before you go.”

She smiled. “Let me help you clean up.”

Free will is a remarkable, and entirely human, characteristic. In my mind, I had envisioned a simple, damp paper towel for my final command. I was pleasantly surprised when she stood, turned around to kneel at my feet, and took my softening cock into her mouth. Her interpretation of my compulsion strongly suggested my lovely flight attendant had a fondness for oral sex. That was encouraging for the later play date I had in mind to pursue.

While I could compel almost any behavior, forced compliance required crude and distasteful methods that too often left permanent damage to the subject. Working with natural inclinations was far more satisfying for all involved and leaving my victims a little better than they were before my hunger allowed me the conceit of believing I was less of a monster for that small kindness. It was the only mercy my nature would allow.

Marie was thorough in her efforts. When not a drop remained, Marie gently tucked me back into my slacks. She even zipped and buttoned my trousers.

I brushed my hand against her cheek, then stood. “Merci’, my dear.”

“Non, merci’!” she beamed a smile up at me. “That was the most amazing sex I have ever had.”

I offered a wooden smile and could only nod in response. What could I say? The moment she stood and walked away, I knew that “the most amazing sex ever” had already been forgotten.

Ships passing in the night. Pleasure without permanence. Such was the nature and necessity of my immortal existence.

The only sound was the low hum of the engines as I returned to my seat. For a brief, golden moment, my hunger was sated and there was only tranquility. I drank deeply of the silence and floated in the stillness. The silence was precious to me because I knew it would not last.