He could smell her (one shot)


She was smoking a joint outside the nightclub.  Talking to the bricks and bathing in sewer smog.  Sweat collected down her throat, behind her knees and across her lip. She was alone. The smoke, her only company. He was leaving through a back door.  Avoiding the crowd around front.  Looking to get lost. He could smell her before he saw her. The pungent stank of skunk weed wafting through the alleyway and the fruity notes of her perfume somewhere beneath.

Their eyes met and she giggled. “Caught me” She wobbled on her heels.  Black skirt fluttering in the light breeze.  Sheer red tank top revealing a black pushup bra underneath.  “Want?” she asked and she held the joint out to him.  She stumbled forward. Her lipstick smeared.  Strap of her pocketbook winding around her knees.  Threatening to trip her.  Then actually tripping her. Disoriented but determined she made it to his side.  “It’s good shit.” she laughed as she thrust her fatty in his face.

“I don’t smoke.” He said succinctly but he didn’t walk away from her. “What are you doing back here?”

“Hiding from the world.  You sure you don’t want? It’s gooood.”

“No, I don’t want.  And you should probably put that out. You’re already wasted.”

“Not wasted enough bub, I can still hear myself think.”  she stepped back and her ankle turned in on itself.  “Fuck!”

He looked her up and down.  Assessed her mess.  She was clearly inebriated.  Vulnerable.  Pale.  Fresh.  Tasty.

“Hey – I know you.”  she observed “You’re that guy … from that thing!”

“Yeah. I’m that guy.”  He looked down the alley away from the club and towards the idling cab. The other direction to the shadows and nothingness.  His need rose up in him from the great dark beyond.  “You should go home.” he suggested.  He was tempted.  Aroused.  In need.  She was there.  Like a present from the darkness.  Easy.

“You were in that movie … naked! You’re a bad boy.  Hah-hah.  I saw your bootie!” she snorted or flirted he couldn’t quite tell then said “Oh god, my stomach.” She groaned and leaned heavy on the dumpster beside her before collapsing to the ground “I think I might have had a little too much to drink.”  she struggled to stand.

“Allow me.” he said and he was at her side in a flash.  Slipping his arms beneath her and helping her back on her feet.  He could smell her flesh then.  Sweet and sour.  He licked his lips.  He was hungry.  “You here alone?”

“Aren’t I always?”

“It is very late.” He let his eyes roam up and down her body.  Her breasts heaving in the heat.  Sheer red top casting a shadow over her cleave but not a safety net.  “Bad things happen at this hour to pretty girls who are high as fuck and all alone.”  He circled around her then twisted a lock of her hair around his fingertips.  It coiled like a black snake. She looked up at him. Perplexed.  High as fuck.  Giddy.  Stupefied.  He slid his hand further in to her hair and massaged her neck before tilting her head to the side to expose her jugular.

She snapped her fingers.  Sloppily.  “You’re Jared Leto!”

“I am.”

“What’re you doing in an alleyway Jared Leto?”

“Having a bite to eat.”  And with that he swooped down on her like a vulture on fresh death.  His teeth sunk deep into her neck. Incisors invading her arteries.  His blue eyes sparkled black.  Twinkling night sky.  Onyx as he drank of her.   She did not moan, nor cry, nor whimper.  It was over in a second, for she was his dinner.

He wiped her from his mouth and dropped her to the ground before stepping over her corpse and sauntering down the alley to his waiting cab.  “Baltimore” He told the driver.  “Station North.”

She was drained.  He was replenished.


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