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House Rinna: The Vampire Enclaves by Black, Angel (1)

Chapter 1: What My Body is Made For

Samantha’s dark brown eyes felt dry and tired as she stared down at the open Psychology textbook on her standard dorm room desk. The words, CHAPTER 12: A Glimpse Into The Human Sexual Psyche, stared back at her. The black block letters stared up at her from the startling white contrast of the page’s background. It was a chapter title that just screamed to be read, and she wanted to. But the music. The loud, ear drum bursting music that was coming very clearly into her room, despite the cement block wall in between.

Groaning, Samantha screwed her eyes shut as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She wanted to study. Finals were in a week and on top of that, she loved the material the class was studying. But with her ever-growing headache and the nonstop scream of black metal music, her brain was just refusing to absorb the material.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam murmured, pushing herself away from her desk. She picked up the book, turned in the limited space of the dorm room and began pounding the wall with it.

“Turn your music down!” She yelled, whacking the wall as hard as she could with her textbook. “Some of us actually care about our future!”

She let out a frustrated scream when their only response was to turn the music up several notches, and she flung the book back onto her desk. Feeling flushed, she lifted the heavy pastel pink fisherman’s sweater off of her and tossed it frustratingly onto her bed. As she did so, her long, curly auburn hair filled with static electricity. Not realizing it, she went to pick up her pen once more to take notes, only to be shocked by it.

“Oh my god, really?” She asked aloud, flinging the pen away from her. Samantha gathered her hair in her hand, smoothing it down over her left shoulder while she grabbed her brush. Head pounding, emotions rising, she sat down at her desk to brush her hair and catch her breath.

Okay Sam, calm down, she told herself, trying to get her temper and her hair under control. The heavy black brush passed easily through her hair, taking out the tangles and the static as she focused more on her breathing. It had been a rough week. Like, a Murphy’s Law kind of week, really.

Her 23rd birthday had been the Sunday before, and that’s when it started. Since then, she’d lost a term paper titled The Fabric of Lies, a paper she was sure would have been submitted to a psychology journal at some point. She also lost her notes on her Metaphysical Divergencies class, somehow slept through a pre-final test, her bicycle was stolen, and now, the cherry on top, her study time was being deprived. Sam wasn’t the type of woman to complain, but if she was, this would have been the time to do it.

On top of all of that, sleep had been playing hide and seek with her. Some nights it came, others in completely vanished, leaving her to only guess where it could have been hiding. Samantha felt that if she could just get some sleep, then maybe she could put herself on the right track. However, the ever-going heavy metal music was postponing any possible naps, so she decided to take a shower instead.

Depositing her brush back into her makeup caddy, Sam stripped off her white tank top, jeans and socks. Her simple matching white bra and panty set came next, and for a moment she simply studied herself in the mirror. Although she studied human sexuality, she often felt herself separated from it. She didn’t seem to have the drive of most of her fellow students, despite her best efforts of trying to rouse them.

That was, until last week. What little sleep she was getting had been filled with sensual dreams of not just one, but several handsome men. In her dreams she did things. Questionable, delicious things that never aroused her before, but she seemed to love in the fantasies. A blush bloomed in her peaches and cream complexion as she thought about some of those things, her fingertips gliding slowly over her body as she did so.

Her skin was soft, and clear. Her curves, though small, were apparent in the mirror. They came after a long, swanlike neck attached to a strong chin and well-shaped cheekbones. She had noticed guys staring at her, sometimes even girls, but she never felt the need to pursue them. After all of her research, she had thought she had been asexual. That was, until the dreams.

In the hallway, the music was so much worse. She could feel the vibrations of the angry screams and instruments beneath her very feet, and she wondered how the party was still going, especially since it was the week before finals. To her relief, the shower stalls, which were all the way at the opposite end of the hallway, were blessedly much quieter, and empty. Sure, she could still hear the thumping of the bass, but it was a small price to pay for the solitude she felt.

Shedding her towel, Sam adjusted the water to the right place, and without preamble stepped into the powerful stream of lukewarm water.

“Yes,” she moaned as the streams of water pelted down over the top of her head and face. “Oh, baby, yes!”

She was talking to herself, she knew. She also didn’t care. Because she was the only one in the stalls, the water temperature was perfect, and the pressure was full, massaging even. For several moments Sam merely stood in there, reveling in the relaxation of her private shower.

Tilting her face up, she let the water wash her make up away. Tiny rivers of black mascara travelled down her soft cheeks while her dusky rose lips parted to take in the many droplets of water. It was as if the weight of the world was washing away from her in the shower, and she was letting it all go with one droplet of water at a time.

Thirty minutes later, Sam was still relaxing in the shower. The silence had cured her of her headache, and the great water pressure had massaged some of her sorer back and shoulder muscles down to much smaller knots. In her mind, she’d formed a loose plan on what to do back in her room, and she was ready to test her theory. Her fingers had just wrapped around the shower handle when the sound of giggling echoed throughout the shower stalls, stilling her.

“I can’t believe we’re actually going to do this!” A girl squealed, sounding as if she were both drunk and excited.

“Believe it baby,” a guy told her, his voice deep and gruff. Beneath the gruffness of it, the man’s voice was heavy with seductive. Not even knowing what he looked like, Sam felt her nipples harden and her sex moisten as she listened to him continue to seduce the girl. Already her voice was more moans than words, and from what she could hear, they hadn’t even started taking each other’s clothes off yet!

She was trying to work out a way to sneak out without interrupting them when suddenly she heard them change course and walk directly towards her in a series of drunken footsteps. Her heart froze as she heard the sound of the shower curtain to her direct right being pulled back, and two clumsy bodies pushed themselves into the small stall beside her.

“Show me, Greg,” the girl moaned, flinging her clothes over the top of the shower curtain. “Show me what my body was made for!”

A deep chuckle came from Greg before the girl fell into a puddle of apparent sexual satisfaction. Growls, mewls, and other sounds of erotic pleasure began pouring out of the shower stall, and Sam knew it was time to go although, a small dark corner of her wanted to stay. She was studying sexual psychology after all. And, she was also in the process of her own apparent sexual awakening. Staying would be research, she told herself, but she knew she was lying.

Perhaps if it hadn’t been over three years since she’d had her last encounter she could have actually focused, maybe even taken real notes on the seemingly odd hookup. But she knew herself better. It had barely been a minute and she was already fantasizing what it would be like for ‘Greg’ to simply push her shower curtain to the side and ravish her right along with the other girl. Stifling a groan, Sam instead turned the shower dial to cold and blasted herself with icy water for several seconds before stepping out and toweling herself off.

Teeth chattering, she dried quickly before darting to make her escape to the exit. As she was leaving, however, she couldn’t help but turn to look at the stall the couple was copulating in. To her surprise, they hadn’t even bothered to close the curtain the entire way. Even with it partially closed it was clear to see that the woman had been pushed up against the shower wall, and Greg had gone to his knees to, in Sam’s opinion, drink the woman dry.

Despite the distance, she could still see the woman’s quivering body desperately clinging to the shower stall walls as the man held her backside with his hands, massaging the muscles there while his tongue wreaked havoc over the woman’s holiest of holiest. Sam became transfixed as she watched them, forgetting altogether that she was nothing more than a peeping Tom at this point. She just couldn’t seem to look away. There was just something so primal about what she was watching; feral, even. It reminded her suspiciously of her dreams.

She was imagining what it would be like to be tasted in such a way when suddenly Greg lifted his head, and turned to look directly into her eyes.

It felt as if a bolt of lightning hit Sam in the clitoris as his aqua blue eyes stared through her brown ones and into her very soul. A strange sense of familiarity filled her as they looked at each other, and it wasn’t until he smiled at her that she even remembered that she had just got caught watching something she had no right to watch.

Remembering how to use her feet, Sam quickly left the bathroom and headed back to her dorm, alarmed and confused about what she had just been a part of. In her room, the music was as loud as ever, but she didn’t even notice it. All she could think about was the guy’s incredibly blue eyes. Of course, the rest of him hadn’t been too bad either. Even on his knees it was clear to see that the guy was chiseled out of stone. He had muscles on top of muscles, and thick, black hair that simply begged her to run her fingers through it.

He has to be a professor, she thought as she moisturized, then dressed. Maybe from the English department? I think I heard Trudy saying something about an unspoken rule with them. Whoever it was, they certainly knew what they were doing, and who to do it with. The girl he had was definitely a willing partner, but then with those looks, who wouldn’t have been?



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