Vampire Dancing Read Online Free Page A

and attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. The guy they're following doesn't look particularly threatening in his pressed white shirt and slacks, but then, perverts don't exactly come with a warning emblazoned in bright neon above their heads.
    The creep is tailing a young woman wearing a green kimono-style top, leather knee-high boots and a tight black skirt so short it could double up as a belt. Where the hell she's going is anyone's guess, but judging from her unsteady gait, it's clear to see she's not long stepped out of an establishment with a liquor license.
    She stops at the corner along Broadway. Under the radiance of the streetlamp, it becomes obvious she's a particularly attractive girl. Dark-skinned with an hour-glass figure and a mane of shimmering black hair, she's both imposing and vulnerable in equal measure.
    She glances over her shoulder - perhaps instinct telling her something's not quite what it seems - then pulls on the black cardigan sweater she's carrying.
    Whatever the reason for the girl's glance, the man pursuing her isn't taking any chances. He stops outside of The Bank of America, gets down on one knee and attends to an apparently loose shoe lace. And now he's looking over his shoulder, perhaps also getting a tingly - something's-not-quite-right - vibe.
    Even though there's nothing to suggest they're partaking in their own little stealth mission, Amber goes on the defensive and pushes Michael against a wall.
    Michael's a little taken by the move, but isn't complaining. He eagerly meets Amber's moist lips, and slides his hands inside her leather jacket and around her waist.
    “Who says we just let this guy be,” he says in between a mouthful of warm tongue.
    “He's going to attack the girl,” Amber replies softly. She starts nibbling on Michael's neck. Her hand finds one of his shirt buttons and pops it open. Then it finds another one. And then another. Moments later, that very same hand is slithering around a tight lower abdomen.
    Michael immediately feels a physical response stirring down below. “It's not our problem, though - the girl, I mean.”
    “I'm still hungry,” Amber purrs, and pushes her tongue past Michael's lips.
    Eventually coming up for air, Michael gasps: “You're not making this easy.”
    Amber steals a look to her left. The girl is making her way into the road and the man is still feigning shoe lace attendance. Turning back to Michael, she says: “That little snack at the diner wasn't real food.”
    “I worked my stomach for years to be able to hold and digest that stuff,” Michael says. “I actually quite enjoyed it.”
    “Me too, but we're not like other people. We can't live off it.”
    “I know that, but-”
    Amber grabs Michael's crotch and squeezes. “Tell me you have some balls and that you're not one of those whining blood substitute pacifists.”
    Michael gives an infelicitous shrug. “Well...”
    Clearly disappointed, Amber steps back from Michael. She glances quickly to her left again. Her hair whips round and hits him in the face. “He's moving, come on.”
    Michael considers telling Amber he's not a faucet she can turn on and off whenever she pleases, but opts instead for shutting-the-hell up.
    The young woman is now on the sidewalk across the street. Her stalker isn't far behind.
    Amber pauses to let a yellow cab pass, then hurries into the road. She cringes at the sound of her heels clacking against asphalt.
    The girl walks into a parking garage.
    Amber knows this is where the stalker will strike. It's an ideal location. She reaches the other side of the street and feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see Michael standing behind her.
    “You're really going to do this?” he asks.
    “Yes. I am. I thought you'd be up for it.”
    “It's been a long time,” he says.
    Amber turns to walk away.
    Michael grabs hold of her arm. “Hey.”
    Amber pulls her arm free of his grip. “ What ?”
    “I'm not trying to stop you. He's a scumbag.