We meet in a bar. Your voice caught my attention as I walked down the sidewalk in the hot summer night. As I enter, I see you onstage, wailing your heart out, a bunch of kids playing hard and loud around you. All I can hear is your voice. The instruments are dead to me. Your song has brought me to you, and now you will pay.

You feel me watching you long before you see me. You look around, trying to find the source of your sudden breathlessness. Your body has reacted to my presence, my calling. Your heart responds to me, our pulses synchronizing, beating in time with the beat of the music that moves you. I order a glass of wine and press a $20 bill in the waitress' hand, with instructions to bring you to me when your set is done.

You feel me watching you long before you see me. You look around, trying to find the source of your sudden breathlessness. Your body has reacted to my presence, my calling, without your input or control. I ask the waitress for water, press a $20 bill in her hand and ask her to bring you to me when your set is done.

You finish singing and step offstage, looking mildly disgusted with your backup band. My waitress approaches and passes on my invitation. You glance in my direction and immediately feel a shock as a connection is made between us.

You ask her to bring you a drink and walk over to meet me. I stand as you approach, taking your hand in mine and kiss the smooth back, turning it over and kissing your palm and your wrist as you sit down.

I hold your hand as we sit, sipping our drinks and watching each other. I can feel your heartbeat through your fingertips, feel our pulses synchronize, almost flowing together. Looking into your eyes, I show you my soul, my desire, my need to feed on your lust.

We stand together, and I toss some money on the table. Taking your arm in mine, we walk through the door, your backup band calling out to you to come finish the night's performance. You hear nothing but the sound of my voice whispering in your ear, telling you of the pleasure we will share this night.

We walk along the street, each light casting weird shadows as we approach and pass by. Pausing in an alley next to the hotel where I have my rooms, I pull you close and kiss you deeply, sucking your tongue between your lips, drinking in your breath. My hands wander to your breasts and squeeze them through the cotton of your t-shirt. Your nipples are already hard, and you gasp at my touch, a surge of heat washing over your body. I slip my hand into your jeans and pinch your clit lightly between my fingers, feel you tremble in my arms. You reach for my cock, but I stop you, and we enter the hotel lobby. Crossing the faded carpet we stumble into the elevator, lost in our passion.

We enter my room. I cross to the bed and turn on the small lamp on the nightstand. I lift my head and sniff, your fragrance filling the room, faint smell of blood underlying the mucky aroma of your desire. I feel your pulse racing in time with mine, watch as you begin to undress, your clothes falling to the floor as you come to me.

You step into my arms and kiss me roughly, passionately, your tongue plunging into my mouth. I suck hard as my hands run down your back, cupping your ass and lifting you off the floor. I hold you close, kissing you, feeling your heart pounding, the heat building in your body, and lay you on the bed. You reach up and pull my shirt off, then reach for my belt, but I step back, just out of reach.