The Collector

He smiled her way as she moved to sit down outside the busy café.
She made some throwaway comment about no ashtrays – he was smoking too.
Rugged, unshaven, old jeans, biker jacket; his smile crinkled his eyes and revealed a row of neat, white teeth. He seemed honest, gentle and good.
“You might as well come and sit here,” he said, “Now that we’ve broken the ice.”
What harm would conversation do?
She had a notion that there could be some fun to be had with this man, and his smile was sweet and inviting. Perhaps this once it wouldn’t hurt?

Later she couldn’t remember what they spoke about. He liked her voice, he said, and she knew she’d charmed him straight away, as he’d laughed at her delicate innuendoes.
“Oh you’re good! Very good,” he chuckled, a number of times. What the heck had she even said? Mostly she just listened and smiled. That was the way it seemed to work best. Men just wanted to be heard and be seen as attractive by a beautiful woman. And she was remarkably beautiful, everyone said.

He had an old brass lighter – the type with the flip-back lid, and it was engraved with a quote that she’d forgotten now. It amused him to tell her it was an homage to Lemmy, “But then you probably don’t know who he is…”
“I’m older than you think,” she replied, and once again enjoyed the shocked look that she always received when strangers discovered her age. Time had been very kind to her indeed. He leant forward and flipped back the top of the lighter while she dragged in on her smoke. So simple an act, but still so sexy when a man does this for a woman. Maybe more so in this age where vaping has largely replaced the old ways of tobacco: a dirty luxury she had no intention of giving up.

Later, as she undressed him in her bedroom, she was able to appreciate the immensity of him. He was tall and broad and still strong despite being well into his middle years.
“You’re all man,” she said, and he blushed. It was seduction by numbers and he was as susceptible as all the rest. Once her clothes came off he didn’t seem to know what to do. He became fragile and lost, like a little boy who’d never fully claimed his own desires. It maddened her that human beings could live a full life on this planet without embracing the great wonder of their sexuality but she’d lost patience with teaching and guiding them to it many lifetimes ago. If they couldn’t find their own way to it now, it was their loss and more fool them. She’d have them anyway and find some satisfaction, however fleeting and brief.

With her head bent back over the edge of the bed, he rammed his steel rod down the back of her throat and thrust hard against her face. She fought back the bile that threatened to rise but grinned because he’d found some spunk to fuck her with at last. The delicious thrill of fear of suffocation toyed at the edge of her vision and occasionally made her struggle, legs in the air… the dark tunnel creeping in as her body demanded more oxygen, but he was essentially gentle and pulled out too quick, allowing her to breathe and she pitied him for it. Perhaps if he’d shown more raw, primitive force she’d have allowed him to leave but she swallowed his cum as it spilled down her throat in thick, copious amounts and so it only seemed fair that she should get some reward in return. Orgasms had lost their power over her many years ago, if she could even find a man on this damn, dried-up Earth that knew how to deliver her one.

Smoothing her dress back down over her thighs and fixing her hair, she called up her pet from his place in the kitchen; a devoted being who asked only to serve and to worship her feet from time to time. They’d become inseparable over the decades and she couldn’t imagine daily life without him.
“Alfred, please clean up the mess in the Master Bedroom. Feed the waste to the pigs.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he grovelled, crawling past on all fours.
“Please serve tea in the Summer Room at eight.”
It was getting dark now but she liked to sit and stare at the stars on a clear night like this. Sensing the life force flooding her veins made her feel so alive after taking fresh prey, and now she had a new trophy to add to the wall with her other sad and shrivelled specimens from the men who’d failed to meet her needs for the last five centuries. Tonight Alfred would tuck her in and she’d sleep the sleep of the innocent for a few days, until it was time to rise and hunt again.