Page 36 of Thirst

“Nah, I'm good,” she says aloud, placing a knee on the mattress. “Let’s do it. I'm ready,”

With a nod, I take her hand and help her up, and she climbs her way to the center. She settles herself there, fighting through the wave of nerves trying to pull her down.

“Okay. Now what?” she asks, her jaw tightening.

“That’s it,” I say, backing away. “Get in the middle. I'm gonna watch you.”

“Watch me?”

I answer her question by grabbing the chair by the door and sliding it to the front of the bed, positioning it in the center before lowering myself onto the seat.

“You wanted me to guide you through it, right?” I ask rhetorically.

She nods. “Yes.”

“Good. Then before you reach for that knife, I wanna watch you strip. I wanna see you remove every article of clothing, and make it just as sensual as you would if we were in booth number eight. In fact, that’s where I want you to go in your mind. Treat it like we’re back at Fantasies. Find your comfort, and remember that I'm the same guy you danced for before. We’ve already been in the booth together. I’ve defended you against your boss. We’ve had deep conversations, even in the Viper Rooms. Go back to all of that in your head, and remember what got us here. By the time you're finished, you’ll be able to relax and trust me.”

I'm not the biggest fan of Influencing her into relaxing, but we’re in my bedroom. We’ve come too far for me to let this slip away. I need her blood. Tonight. So I sit back in my chair and watch with pleasure as she begins to do as she has been Influenced to do. She thinks about everything we’ve experienced together at the club, and about the money I offered. She needs it because of her rent increase, so she tells herself to think of it as a transaction just like the many she has experienced before. Even though she likes me, it’s easier if she thinks of it as a business deal.

She wants the money, I want her blood. In the end, we’ll both get what we want. Whatever works.

Using the wine from dinner and my Influence as fuel, she gets on her knees in the center of the bed and keeps her eyes focused on me. Just like if we were in the club, she only thinks about what she could do that would make me the happiest—what could earn her the biggest tip. So as I watch, she lets her hands slowly glide up her body as “Taste” by Coco Jones begins to play through the ceiling speakers. She lets the beat be her guide, twisting her hips as she slowly works her way out of her dress. Over time, she begins to find her comfort zone. All of her inhibitions slowly melt away like candle wax, and by the time she’s only wearing panties and a strapless bra, she’s ready for whatever comes next.

“You're gorgeous,” I tell her. “Every inch of you is perfect—beautiful brown skin that glows with the aura of a goddess. You're like a deity, and the world you inhabit isn't worthy of you. It’s unreal how impeccable you are.”

My eyes roam her beautiful, flawless skin and I find myself terror-stricken by how much I enjoy just looking at her. Thoughts of grabbing her and biting her neck are replaced by a desire to just sit and stare so that I have time to appreciate how perfect she is. My eyes have never seen such a thing. My heart doesn't beat, yet it comes to life for her. She fills me with vibrations I've never felt before.

“Are you ready?” I ask, licking my lips as my mouth begins to water, the thirst ignited by the sight of her bare skin.

She nods. “I'm ready.”

I stand and step closer to the bed. “Okay. Lie on your back.”

With a pounding heart, she does as I command as I move from the end of the bed to the side where the knife sits on the nightstand. I pick up the blade and hold it out for her until she grips it by the wooden handle.

“All I want you to do now,” I say, “is what you’ve done before—draw a single line down your arm in the same spot you used to. Be careful not to cut too deep, but if it’s too shallow the blood won't flow.”

“And you want to see it … flow?”

Saliva fills my mouth with the thought and I have to swallow it quickly just to answer. “Yes.”

She nods as she grips the knife in her right hand and lifts her left arm. She’s relaxed from my Influence, but it's almost like my power is struggling to maintain control, because thoughts about her past cutting and her reasoning for it explode through her memory like shrapnel. I feel her fear and dread hammering at her mind, trying to break through the Influence and making her confused. Sweat beads on her forehead and she shakes her head, trying to fight through the fog.

“Stop,” I command. Aaliyah forces her eyes away from the scars on her arm to look at me. “I've had a change of heart. I don't want you to cut the same place you used to. Those scars are from your past, put there by a different person. I don’t want to put you in the position of awakening a dark part of yourself that you've fought so hard to bury. You've grown past this, so let's not backtrack. In fact, you don't have to do it at all. I’ll do it for you.”

“What?” she exclaims like she's being threatened.

“With your permission, of course,” I quickly say. “But I wouldn't cut you here.”

“I don't understand. Then where?”

I take the knife and place the wooden handle on her chest, slowly dragging it down. I guide it between her breasts and around her navel, before coming to a stop at the top of her panties.

“Here,” I say softly as I slip the handle under the fabric.

She gasps. “You want to cut me above my …”

“Yes,” I say as her voice trails off. “Above it. Not on it. I'm into blood, not mutilation.”