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I didn’t bring it up again for quite a while. After a month I was healed. The scar was pretty nasty looking but otherwise there were no problems. Jenny and I fell into a routine.

She fed every two weeks—usually on a Thursday or Friday. Then it’d be a hell of a weekend as we fucked day and night for two days. Sometimes we’d just spend the whole time naked. I simply couldn’t get enough of fucking my, sort of, preteen daughter. I learned that she had a thing for doing it outdoors. This was a problem for me, as it was winter, but she never noticed the cold. One evening, after an energetic screw in the van, she walked across a snowy beach and swam among chunks of ice in Long Island Sound. Again, one night, we made love on a window ledge of the Chrysler Building in Manhattan. We weren’t too high up and I’m sure we had spectators in buildings across the street. It’s quite an experience to sit with your legs dangling off the 43rd story with the girl astride your lap.

Jenny also liked to screw in her box, in the total dark with the lid closed. Her eyes would hover just above my face as they changed color. It was always very warm in there and the small space would fill with the smells of our lovemaking. Her light frame on top of me, her legs to the sides of mine, our bodies slippery with sweat—it was a sensual experience beyond none.

Still, I preferred the day when I could see what I was doing. The sight of her smooth and clean body, her uncovered pussy taking my cock, her flat chest with the nickel size nipples—just awesome.

We did oral as much as vaginal. A few times, after she’d fed in the back of the van, she’d give me a blow job as we drove back. More than once I’ve filled her mouth with cum between toll booths on the New Jersey Turnpike. Afterwards, my dick would be stained with blood.

I also just couldn’t get enough of licking and sucking her hairless pussy lips—and she couldn’t get enough of having me lick and suck her cunt. Seems that Charlie simply wasn’t into oral sex—giving or receiving. Guy didn’t know what he was missing.

My ‘writing’ career also continued. In the first year I edited two of Charlie’s manuscripts and finished one. The edited ones were published—I had to wait with the other as there was a prequel still on the shelf.

Hunting in the summer was a little more difficult because of the longer daylight. However, by building a compartment into the van, using actual walls between the cab and the back, and putting bolts that could positively secure the doors from the inside, I was able to make Jenny feel more comfortable in the van during the day. As long as I parked in parking garages we were OK. We even flew to Orlando and went to Disney World.

Then, in November of our second year together, we had a problem.

Our ‘guest’ that evening was the leader of one of the gangs from Newark. He was really getting too old for this shit—thirty two. He’d just gotten out of prison where he had continued his gang-banger activities unabated. What really got Jenny’s ire was when he ordered, two weeks before his release, the fire bombing of a rival’s gang meth lab. It was set up in an apartment building, on the second floor. The ensuing explosion and fire had killed eight people; three from the rival gang but also three children and an elderly couple.

The first hint that things weren’t right was that it took two auto-injectors to calm him down. I assumed that the first one had malfunctioned and not emptied fully. Jenny had a hell of a fight on her hands before I hit him from the back. The abduction got some attention from a couple of homeless men down the street but I had the tag light on the van wired to a switch to turn it off.

Jenny shackled him in the back and then joined me in the cab for the drive home. We got slowed down by some construction, so the twenty minute drive took over an hour. Robby, in the back, was beginning to get pretty rambunctious by the time I backed the van into the garage.

He grabbed my tazer rod and almost wrenched it out of my hands before Jenny rammed hers into the side of his neck with enough force to push him down the stairs. He fell most of the way but recovered quickly. By the time I slammed the cage door closed he was getting back on his feet.

We waited three hour for the drugs to wear off, then Jenny dressed in the black body suit she’d gotten into the habit of wearing when she fed.

Jenny wasn’t particularly weak that night—she’d fed just ten days earlier—so she was still in a good way and was looking forward to the fight. She seemed to really enjoy a challenging meal, and Robby was really pissed off.

He screamed the usual obscenities and threats when we came in, and he laughed when I opened the crematorium. “You’re the only mother-fucker getting cooked tonight,” he said. As Jenny stood in the vestibule of the cage and smiled, he fangs fully extended, he laughed some more.

“This is bull shit, you two are some fucked up suckers,” he said.

Jenny opened the door and sprang.

From the start, things did not go well. Robby took a step back and, using both arms with his hands clenched together, batted Jenny to the side and into the cage. She bounced off and flew back, turning in mid air to strike again but his fists came up under her chin and, this time, she hit the roof, then the opposite wall, then the floor.

Robby sprung at her as she was getting to her knees and put a choke hold on her, pressing down with all his weight. He was a big guy, maybe 6’ 4” and 230, and Jenny had a bit of trouble flipping him over her shoulders. He got away and they ended standing about six feet apart, facing each other.

This time he jumped her and, as she twisted away, he got a hold on her arm and held her. She ended up against the side of the cage, her feet dangling, and his forearm across her throat. Jenny was able to kick him away.

Again he sprung at her, not losing a beat.

Things were not going well and I ran for reinforcements. I had moved the shot gun from the coat closet to the store room in the basement—it was still loaded. When I came back into the room, Robby had Jenny on the floor. He was on his knees except that he had her legs locked between his thighs. He was holding one of her arms with one hand and had her other wrist pinned to her chest. As I watched he was bearing down with his elbow into her throat.

The buck shot removed the upper third of his scull.

Jenny rolled his body off of her and stayed, panting, on her hands and knees. When I opened the cage she looked up. Her face was covered with blood and brains, there was a piece of bone embedded in her cheek. She picked it out and looked at it.

“Thank you,” she said.

It took over an hour to clean up the mess and get what remained of Robby Smithson into the oven. Three days later, Jenny fed on an old homeless woman in the back of the van as I drove from Staten Island back to West Orange.

That night we made love in the living room as the crematory hissed in the basement. She was sitting on the sofa as I knelt on the floor. First I got her off by licking and sucking her hairless pussy—I just couldn’t get enough of the taste and feel of her sort of ten year old pussy. Then I entered her and watched my cock move in and out of her. When she arched her back, eyes flashing bright blue, I pumped her full of sperm.

Later, actually in the morning, she sucked and swallowed my second load, a smile on her face as she let some of my white goo run out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

We lay together, and watched the window light up. The sun never shown into the window, it faced north.

“Honey,” I said, “the other night was close.”

“I know, I should have been more careful. I was just looking for a fun fight and he got the better of me.”

“You can be beat,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, not looking at me. “That was close.”

“If we could feed together…” I said.

Jenny lifted up and kissed me. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“I think I do,” I responded.

Four days (or evenings) later we were sitting in the living room watching TV when the door bell rang. I got up to answer it. I didn’t notice that Jenny turned off the TV as I headed toward the door.

I had never seen her before but I knew who she was as soon as I opened the door.

“Hello Carmine,” I said, stepping aside.

“Were you expecting me?” she asked as she walked in.

“I wasn’t,” I said.

Carmine and Jenny hugged and kissed each other on the cheek. Jenny kept her arms around Carmine as Carmine looked down and brushed a strand of hair off Jenny’s forehead.

“You look like you’re doing well,” she said.

“I am,” Jenny responded. “You?”

“As well as can be expected,” she responded.

“I’ve been back to Russia,” she went on. “Visited some—old haunts.” She smiled. “The camp is still there but the wood buildings have all fallen down. The block house is still standing but the roof has fallen in some.”

“I have no desire to go back there,” Jenny said. “Run into any old friends?”

“Yes, I did—in Chechnya. Luki is still around. Spends most of his time in the mountains with those nutty Islamists.”

“Pretty good hunting,” Jenny responded, then let go of Carmine and sat down. All three of us did.

“Yes, we had a good time,” Carmine said.

There is one word to describe Carmine—stunning. She’s about 5’3” and probably just breaks 100 pounds. She has black-black hair. Thick and long, to the small of her back. She combs it straight back off her forehead and lets it fall from there. Her eyes are large and set well apart, her nose small and sharp and she has very full lips. She was wearing a dark red lip stick and maroon eye-shadow. Her eyes are very green.

Right then she was wearing a black pantsuit. The jacket was over a white frilly blouse. She had on black high-healed sandals that showed off the matching French manicure and pedicure.

For the rest of the evening I was left mostly out of the conversation as the two girls caught up and talked about old times. It was too interesting listening to them to try to join in.

I was finishing cleaning the kitchen at about nine when Jenny came in. Carmine was standing in the doorway. “We’re going to go out,” she said.

I looked down at her. “Sure,” I said.

“Don’t worry,” Carmine said, “I’ll keep her out of trouble.”

I looked up and smiled. “I know that Jenny doesn’t need any chaperoning.”

I hadn’t seen a suit case, but Carmine rolled it by me as she went to the stairs down to Jenny’s room. A few minutes later they both came back—dressed to the nines. Jenny came over and kissed my lips.

“Don’t wait up,” she said, giggling.

“I won’t,” I responded. “Remember, I have to go into the office tomorrow.”

“Yes, we’ll be downstairs before you get up.”

“Alright if I check in on you?” I asked, looking at Carmine.

“He usually does that,” Jenny said.

Carmine smiled. “Sure, just don’t try to wake me,” she said.

I was aware of the danger of waking a sleeping vampire. “I just always look in on Jenny,” I said.

“Kind of a fatherly thing,” Jenny said with a smile.

A horn sounded outside.

“That’s our ride,” Carmine said.

I watched as the uniformed chauffeur let them into a white limo.

In the morning I went down to the basement to check on them. I hadn’t heard anyone come in, of course you don’t hear vampires coming in to your house in the night.

From the dim light of the hallway I could see that the box was open. I stood over them, cuddled together. Jenny was naked, snuggled in the crook of Carmine’s arm, their cheeks together. Carmine was wearing a white nightgown of some shiny fabric, satin or possibly silk. From the heat coming off of them I knew they had fed. I glanced in the ‘play room’—no bodies. I assume the police found a couple of dead gang-bangers in an alley with their throats cut.

I arrived back home around 4:30. When I closed the door I heard Carmine’s laugh and then Jenny’s giggle from up stairs. I thought it was strange that they’d be up there in daylight. I went up and found them in my room.

They were both naked, kneeling on my bed, embracing each other. They both looked at me.

“Evacska tells me you’d like to join us,” Carmine said.

I didn’t understand her meaning when I said, “Sounds like fun.”

She smiled and extended her fangs…

Chapter 14

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