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And She Was Lying in the Grass

By Hubbard Eric All Rights Reserved ©

Horror

1

"I dare you."

Butch smiled as he wiped the frothy beer head from his mouth. Charlie repeated the words and slowly started to chant his name, his voice a whisper in the loud bar. Mike and Rick joined the mantra, pounding on the table where they all sat.  Their glasses clinked and shook.  Peanuts and a basket of hot wing bones tipped over and fell on the floor. The waitress swooped in and picked up the basket with a disgusted groan. Mike tried to slap her ass, but missed and almost tipped over.

"Shut the fuck up you morons," said Butch as he clumsily tossed a peanut in the air. It missed his mouth and bounced off the table. "I know she wants me. She's been giving me the doe eyes all night."

Butch glanced over to where she sat at the end of the bar. He watched her wind her black hair around her finger. Her head tilted to the side as she sipped from her drink, a Long Island iced tea, he was sure of it. It was her third. He had been counting. A few other guys had tried their luck approaching her and had been abruptly dismissed, their advance premature. As soon as she finished that third drink, it would be go time. Time to close the deal. Just like when he sold some dumb shit the car of their dreams for the sticker price.

The girl swiveled on the bar stool, back and forth, her motion hypnotic. Her eyes were fully on him, moving up and down his body, not looking away. She was definitely down. A short red miniskirt and black top conformed to her curves and she continually swung her legs, one over the other, giving him a good look at her vibrant skin.

She's built, he thought. Built for me.

"Butch, you're crazy. She's going to take one look at your sorry, used car selling ass, and say go fuck yourself, cause you ain't fucking this," said Mike.

Of the group, Mike had the biggest mouth. He worked for an aide in the Mayor's office and thought he was better than the rest of the guys. Piece of shit. Time to take some of that dirty money.

"How much?" offered Butch.

Mike frowned. "How much what? How much do I want to watch you embarrass yourself? Hmm, let me think."

"Hundred bucks," said Butch before Mike could get out one of his sarcastic jibes.

A hush fell over the group in the blaring noise. Mike leaned back and regarded Butch, a sly grin across his thin lips. Butch stared past Mike and watched the girl again. She smiled and twisted a plastic straw in her teeth. The smile screamed: take me, take me, please Butch, take me.

"You're on," said Mike slapping down a hundred dollar bill.

Charlie grabbed the money. "I'll hold it. Come on, Butch. You know the rules."

Butch reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He barely had enough and had to count out the last five in ones.

"Jesus, you are a broke bastard," snorted Mike.

Butch slapped the money down hard. "I'm about to get richer."

Butch pushed away from the table, tipping back and almost falling. The group roared, but he ignored their laughter and started across the room. As he got closer to the end of the bar, she turned to face him and their eyes locked. He realized that he had spent so much time concentrating on that kick ass body he hadn't noticed the swimming pools that were her eyes. The greenish blue reminded him of when he operated Patriot missiles in Turkey, staring into the Mediterranean as they disembarked. Beautiful and somehow familiar.

The place seemed to sprout people from all sides. When he was almost to her, she stood, their eyes never leaving one another. People cursed at him as he bumbled through the crowd. At once, she appeared in front of him.

"Dance with me," she said, grabbing his hand and spinning around so that her back faced him.

A whiff of her perfume, heavy enough to make his eyes water, assailed his nostrils. Underneath the sweet aroma, another robust smell made him think of wet mud after a thunderstorm. He coughed, trying to expel the earthy odor. A little B.O. was not going to stop him.

She led him onto the raised dance floor. He tripped on the steps and she quickly grabbed hold to steady him. Her fingers dug into his arms and a slight yelp escaped his lips. Embarrassed, he started to dance, hoping she did not hear him through the music that blared around them. The sound beat in his chest while she pressed against him and directed his hands up and down the silkiness of her body. Butch did not know if it was the fabric of her dress or her skin that felt so inviting. She pulled his face close and the music faded into background noise. Her nails dug into the back of his neck and she kissed him.

When she pulled away, a tiny line of spit traced from their lips. She flicked her tongue and it disappeared. Lowering her head, she pulled him closer and rubbed his chest, flicking his nipples with her fingertips. A moan, louder than he intended, made a woman in a pink top next to them giggle. The girl lifted up from his chest and smiled, clasping her hand over his mouth.

"Not yet," she cooed, pulling her hand away and kissing him again. The taste of her lips reminded him of the cinnamon and sugar toast his mother made him each morning for breakfast. Butch tried to pull her into him, but she pushed away. For such a small girl, her strength surprised him.

 "You are handsome," she said, pushing his hair back. "I've never felt like this before. I dreamed of this moment last night. I thought I was crazy to think it could come true. But now that it has."

She looked away as if embarrassed by her words. He cupped her cheek in his hand and her eyes returned to meet his gaze. Music thumped as bodies knocked into them. They shifted from side to side as if on the deck of a boat in a choppy sea. Butch eased his thumb down to her chin. She took his hand and slipped his thumb into her mouth. Her dark blue painted lips puckered around the tip. Continuing down the base of his hand, she licked his palm and Butch coalesced in the ecstasy of the moment. She kissed him again on the lips. Her eyes, like blue skies, met his stare.

"I want you. I want you now," she said.

Butch could not believe his luck. He was going to fuck this hot piece of ass and be a hundred bucks richer to boot. A cold shiver ran down his back and that's when it hit him.

"Did Mike put you up to this?" he asked, pushing away from the girl.

"I don't know any Mike. I only know that I need you."

"Yeah, right. Big fucking joke. Goddamn it."

Butch turned and started to push his way through the crowd. She grabbed him and whipped him back to face her. A hum began in his ears and white light filled his vision, blinding him. He could not tell where the sound came from; it seemed to radiate from all sides. He focused on her and he saw the crinkles form around her eyes as a smile filled her face. She spoke, but the words were not audible. They were like ghosts in his mind whispering thoughts. His arms went limp and his body shuddered.

What was she saying to him? I'm clean. No, I'm free. What?

"Come with me," she said.

The hum dissipated. When he looked around, he realized he was in his car with keys in hand. The girl sat in the passenger seat, her legs crossed and eyes sparkling.

"Am I taking you..." he started to ask. The words caught in his chest and he found it hard to swallow.

"To your place. Yes, you are. And please," she paused and leaned forward. "Hurry."

When they arrived at his apartment, the girl excused herself and went into the bathroom. Butch still did not know her name and he did not care. He ripped his boots off and tossed them into the corner. The action of simultaneously dropping his jeans and pulling his shirt off caused him to tip.  He fell onto the bed with his jeans around his ankles and his shirt stuck to the top of his head.

The bathroom door creaked open and the girl leaned against the frame; her silhouetted face shrouded in a sea of black hair. Butch could not make out what lingerie she was wearing, but he wanted it off. She shook her hair and he felt a quiver between his legs.

"Are you ready for me?" she teased.

He wanted to scream: yes, yes, yes.  Words choked in his throat and only a guttural belch accompanied his forceful nod.

"I want this evening to be perfect," she said. She held up her phone. "Can I plug this in?"

He gestured to the end table. She moved across the room as if she were skating on ice. Bending down, she seated her phone in the docking station. His eyes adjusted to the small bit of light that bled in from the window and her shadowy form came into focus. Ebony hair dangled across her chest. Scarves, red, yellow and blue, covered her body. The silky fabric brushed against his bare legs as she walked by. He reached over and she slapped his hand.

"Get that shirt off your head."

The music started. It sounded like Middle Eastern towel head music to Butch. He tore the shirt from the top of his head and threw it across the room. Kicking his jeans and underwear off, he stretched out onto the bed. The cold air felt tingly against his naked skin.

She stopped at the foot of the bed and swayed to the music. As Butch watched her dance, he felt as if he experienced the music through her motions. It made him think of the dancing chick in the movie 300 he saw with Mike and Charlie. In the movie, the girl had moved in slow motion, floating above the ground with airy scarves streaming around her. Except this chick had a way bigger rack.

Her gyrations led her around the room. She hopped onto the bed. Her balance and dexterity made Butch think she might be a gymnast and he felt another stirring between his legs. Scarves slipped from her supple skin and revealed more of her body. He reached for her again and she slapped his hand away, this time more forceful than before.

"You just lie there and let me do all the work. Ok, big boy?"

A hefty swallow caught in his throat as the scarves continued to fall from her gyrating hips. They hovered in the air before they slowly cascaded around him. Each scarf wafted her sweet perfume and he felt intoxicated.

But there it was again. A hint of earthen musk, like old wet leaves. Butch brushed his nose to try to remove the smell.

She launched herself from the bed. The music and the movement of her hips made him forget any misgivings. He was hard and ready. It was enough with the foreplay. Time to get busy.

"I have to fuck you now before I blow my wad."

She threw her head back and laughed. "It's going to be so good, Butchy-baby. So, so good."

He loved the way his name sounded coming from her lips.

When did he tell her his name?

The thought interrupted his ecstasy and doubt pervaded his mind again.

Don't be stupid, Butch. You don't even remember getting in the car. You told her your name and she probably told you hers. You're just too fucked up to remember. Stop thinking so much and fuck this chick.

Crawling from the foot of the bed, she skulked toward him, licking his toes, sucking each one. She took his foot and slid it from her tight belly up between her breasts. As she licked up his leg, her eyes shun through the ambient darkness. She stopped just above his crotch. Butch threw his head back as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

"Butch? Watch me baby."

"Don't stop. Please," he cried out.

"You ready to give it to me."

"Oh yeah, baby. I'm ready."

She let her hair fall across his stomach and he felt her mouth on him. The first bite, a simple nibble, registered enough to make him think she was so excited her teeth slipped. The second bite was not a mistake.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

She whipped her head back and blood squirted from his crotch.

"You crazy bitch. You bit me."

"Shut up," she said, smashing her open hand into his forehead. The back of his head struck the headboard and lights flashed in his vision. He clenched his teeth as the pain seized him. His stomach churned, his hands cupping his crotch and he felt warm blood, his blood, leaking through his fingers.

"Do you remember me? Or did football completely fuck you up?" Her voice sounded far away as if she were underwater.

He tried to rise but she straddled him. Her arms, like vices on his wrists, clamped down enough that his fingertips started to numb. Wriggling beneath her, blood rolling down the sides of his hips, the force of her nails dug holes into his skin.

"I don't know who the fuck you are but when I get my hands on you I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Such big talk. Gets me hot. Makes me want more of that tiny thing between your legs."

She reached back and Butch heard the ripping of his scrotum from his body before the pain registered; the sound like Velcro ripped from a coat.

"You fucking bitch, I'll kill you." Butch kicked and tried to wrestle the girl from on top of him, but she pinned him back down. Tears rolled down his reddened cheeks.  

"Stop whining. Look at me." She slapped him across the face. "Focus fuckhead. Right here."

She pointed to her eyes and he tried to focus on her face through the tears. A smirk laced her mouth. She licked blood from her fingers.

"Remember the night when I was lying in the grass and you took your turn?" she asked, flicking his forehead with her finger.
  "I have no fucking clue..." A slap quieted him and sent two teeth rocketing across the room, the copper taste of blood filling his mouth.

"You insult me. You do. I can't believe you don't remember our night together."  She stared at the ceiling as if trying to recall the title of a movie or the name of a high school friend. "Five years ago. You were such a young stud back then. Not the pathetic loser you are now."

She grabbed his bleeding penis and tugged. The pain, like lightning in his brain, filled his vision. He had to stay conscious or she would kill him.  He knew that now.

"You stuck this in me just like the rest did. I don't remember who went first because you all beat me pretty badly before you decided to rape me. But I know all of you."

"Cindy?" His voice sounded alien to him. A tremble shuddered through his chest.

"You said it was so good," she said, blowing him a kiss.

"Jesus Christ. It is you. I thought you were dead."

"First of all, you can't think so stop trying. Second, I was dead. Now, I'm back. And I'm feeling a might peckish."

Butch's eyes darted for something to hit her with, some way to get her off him. His semi-automatic was in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. If he could get to it.

"Thinking about this?" she said waving the gun. She cocked her head and let her elbow bend so that the gun was on an angle pointing directly at his chin.

"Look, I was a jerk. Please stop. I know I should have been more of a gentleman."

She laughed. "What the fuck. It's not like you didn't open a door for me. You and Jason and Marshall and Bobby raped me behind the high school. After you beat the shit out of me. Then you dumped me in the reservoir. I think that goes beyond being a gentleman."

"I was just a kid."

She slapped him again.

"Bullshit. Don't lie. I hate it when people lie. You would do it to me right now if you could. Well, would have, I should say."

Butch pushed forward trying to tip her over. She reacted by thumping him on the bridge of his nose with the gun. Blood squirted from his nostrils and he screamed. Another slap inflamed his cheek with pain.

"Hey," she said and grabbed his chin. "We're almost done here."

"I have money," he pleaded.

"What did I say about lying?"

"My friends will know it was you. We bet on me fucking you tonight."

"Friends. That's funny. And what do they know? A hot girl at the bar went home with you. They won't even be able to describe me."

"No way. There are cameras everywhere. And Mike can point you out to the cops."

"I remember you being dumb in high school, but honestly, this is ridiculous now." She grabbed his chin and shook. The room spun and her eyes relinquished any hope from his mind. "I'm a vampire. I died. Remember? You dumped my body. Well, I wasn't dead just yet. I met my master in that wet grave you left me in. He made me the woman I am today. And now that I have served him faithfully, he's granted me my revenge. I started with you. Why you may ask? Because you're the only piece of shit that didn't get out of this town. You should be happy I'm ending your suffering."

Reaching down, she pierced his penis with her fingernail. Butch wailed as she peeled the skin away in long ribbons.

"Geez, not into me anymore I see. Little guy is all tuckered out. Guess it's that time."

Before Butch could scream again, she clamped down on his neck. Blood spattered across the pillow. Butch felt his life seep from within as if someone was slowly suffocating him.

When she pulled away, she licked the blood from her lips. Her fangs dripped dark red.

"One down. Three to go."

As the last bit of life slipped from Butch's consciousness, he watched her slink out the door. A single scarf floated in the air. Before it hit the ground, Butch was dead.

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