Fang Junkie

1. An introduction

1                    An introduction

High heels and tights. The entire dress didn't have to be slutty, but extremely sexy. Since I couldn't pull that off - I don't think anyone could in the dress I was wearing - it was still slutty. Rule number two: always show a lot of cleavage. Easy access was a must, but not below the belt.

I pushed open the door to the bar. The place wasn't necessarily hidden, but it did look like just a regular house in the wrong neighbourhood; a terraced house, to be specific. Little did people now, that the owner of the bar, owned the entire row of houses. This was necessary for privacy.

Just like I did every day, I looked like a whore when I walked into the blood bar. I didn't really care. No one I knew ever came here anyway, and I definitely knew how to handle myself. My throwing daggers were tugged away beneath my clothes and in my boots. There was one dagger tied to each one of my wrists; one throwing dagger, and my regular one. The one I liked to stab with. They were covered by a bunch of bracelets, and it had been a reflex to keep them out of sight.

I pushed open the door and met the bouncer inside. One who wasn't familiar with the place, wouldn't know he was there. I, however, looked his way immediately and offered him a nod. He smiled tightly.

"Harley. You should skip a day." He told me, like he did every morning I came here. I shook my head at him in amusement.

"Maybe tomorrow, Rob." I said, before disappearing through the second door. I never meant it when I said that.

I walked through the bar and my eyes immediately searched for the owner. He was standing by the bar, talking to a client. The client looked important, so I didn't bother them. Forcing myself to be at least a little bit patient, I sat down on a sofa in the corner of the room and inspected today's clients. I preferred to come earlier, when it was still fully dark out, because there were more to pick from. My first job, however, had taken up a bit too much time.

The bar was familiar to me. I had been coming here for nearly two years now, every day. The interior was cosy and dark, suitable to the clients' wishes. The walls were a dark beige, but all of the furniture was dark brown. The lights emanated a warm glow.

My eyes darted around to find someone suitable to my liking. With my looks, I could just as well have been a model, but I had chosen a different profession. And this was my side job. I needed my looks for both of them. Long blond hair, a flawless white skin, blue eyes and naturally swollen pink lips made me the perfect victim for my clients, and that's why I could pick anyone in the bar to take me to that private room. But I often forgot about my appearance. My eyes locked with a male, who was standing by a wall and who seemed a bit nervous. I could tell he was a young one, and didn't know how this worked.

I smiled invitingly at him - a foreign and fake action to me. By the way his eyes flashed red, which I could see from all the way across the room, I knew he was my addiction for the night. My skin had already started sweating and my hands were shaking slightly. I needed my fill. I stood up, not wanting to waste any more time, and shot the man a meaningful look. I despised these creatures, and at the same time, they were my biggest weakness. Wasn't it ironic?

Before I left the main room, I threw one last look over my shoulder to make sure he was following me. He was, slowly. To encourage him to move quicker, I raised one eyebrow and smiled seductively - another fake action. He started walking faster, and so I left the room with the vintage, leather sofas behind and went to one of the smaller private rooms.

I left the door ajar for my client to follow. When I heard the door close, I knew he had entered. "What's your name?" He asked hoarsely.

"I'd rather discuss the practical things." I told him, avoiding the subject of my name. Even if I did tell him, it would be my false one, Saphire. The boss had chosen it for me.