Thanks to all the archived writers who influenced this, and to Midge a.k.a.
KnightNymph for the beta!

Adult Warning:  Explicit sex between NN; voyeurism.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Make Mine Al Dente! - Scene One
By Shemp

    Don, Myra, Nick and Natalie were having dinner together. Myra had wanted to
host the meal because Jenny was sleeping over at a friend's house, and she
wanted her daughter to be able to call home in case of any problems. Nick and
Natalie, being single and childless, did not comprehend Myra's maternal
paranoia.

Natalie remembered her earliest sleepovers filled with the normal juvenile
hijinks: adolescent girls comparing training bras, sneaking drinks from the
liquor cabinet, investigating alternatives in Wicca, inviting the neighborhood
boys over for their first stolen kisses while Vincent Price movies played in
the background . . .

Nat was of the opinion that Myra could seriously jeopardize Jenny's normal
adolescent development if she clung too much to the homestead. Plus, she had a
strong hankering for eggplant Parmesan and chocolate mousse that would not be
denied.

Nick remembered how, when he was Jenny's age, he'd spent hours every day
learning how to fight in mortal combat. The biggest conflict in Jennifer
Schanke's life came in the form of a pillow fight.  ~What an easy, slow-paced
life these modern mortal children lead!~ Since Nick was also fully aware of how
dangerous Nat could get when she was miffed about the lack of chocolate, he
whammied the Schankes into abandoning Myra's pasta primavera in favor of dinner
out at 'Little Tony's Ristorante.'

Dinner began poorly, for everyone couldn't help but notice that Nick didn't
touch his food. Little Tony himself came out and asked if there was a problem
with Nick's meal. "Signore, why you no eat? Mangiare! Mangiare! You make-a my
Mamma sad, you no eat her pasta!"

Shame-faced, Nick choked down two bites of his tortellini Alfredo, gagging as
he swallowed. He'd ordered the house specialty, which was supposedly
garlic-free, but there was still something about the dish that wasn't quite
right.

"Geez, Nick!" Don complained. "It's all macrobiotic shakes or nothing with you,
isn't it? Can't you manage some simple al dente? Do it for Little Tony's
Mamma!"

"And it was your idea we come here," Myra added petulantly. She was a little
annoyed because Mamma's recipe for pasta primavera rang of springtime far more
than her own.

Nat shot Nick a cross look from the other side of the table. This was supposed
to be a special evening! Nick had promised he would try normal food! Her eyes
were accusatory. ~Do you want to be mortal or not?~

Nick slumped for a moment in his seat. No one could accept him for who he was!
They were always demanding things of him. Right now, they studied his eating
like he was a five year-old who couldn't be trusted to not shove half his
dinner into his napkin.  After some more thinking and another guilt-leveraged
bite of his pasta, Nick's indignity began to fester into a passionate spate of
anger. What made Nat think she was so special? He'd drained a hundred women
more beautiful than her! And she was always trying to control him. Everyone was
always trying to control him! He was sick of it, sick of their expectations,
sick of their pasta brimming with nutmeg, sick of trying to become mortal
again. No more being everyone's mopey patsy! He'd do what he wanted to do! He'd
show them al dente!

"Excuse me," Nick said decisively as he threw down his napkin and pushed away
>from the table. "I'm going to offer my compliments to the kitchen."

When fifteen minutes had passed without Nick's return, Natalie couldn't hide
her worried stares toward the double doors leading toward the bowels of the
restaurant. "I think I'll go see what's keeping Nick."

"Sure thing!" Schanke said over a mouthful of meatball and marinara. "Get me
some more bread when you come, will ya?"

Natalie rushed anxiously through the kitchen doors, freezing at the shocking
smorgasbord spread out before her. An elderly woman in a matronly black dress
was splayed on the floor, very dead, but with a glazed smile and hint of nutmeg
touching the corner of her mouth. Not too far away, Nick had his arms and jaws
wrapped around Little Tony, whose face carried a dreamy look of its own.
"Nick!" Natalie gasped. "Stop that! What are you doing?!?"

Nick dropped the Italian, who wasn't fully drained, just weakened and
bewildered by the experience. Blood trickled over the rim of the vampire's
lower lip, and Nick slowly, deliberately, licked himself clean. "I'm just
having a little al dente, Nat." He shot her a glittery look; his voice low and
rough. "Wanna bite?"

Natalie was shocked. "Nick! You just killed Little Tony's Mamma! How can you
ask me that?! As if I'd want to . . . want to . . ." She made a non-descript
wave with one hand. ". . . You know . . . now . . . you know?" Nat frowned as
words failed her. Nick kept looking at her in a certain way. Blood gleamed in
his eyes. He had his upper lip pulled back slightly so that she could see the
proud jut of his fangs. The energy in the kitchen was so feral, Natalie
couldn't hold back a shiver. The remnants of her analytical mind wondered if
she was rightly afraid of this portrait of bloodlust that stood before her. Her
less logical, hormone-driven body felt her senses prickle as adrenaline flooded
her system, matched by an involuntary spasm in her loins. The violent scene
repulsed her, yet simultaneously the danger and desire emanating from Nick
strummed the earliest chords of her passions. On instinct, Natalie's gaze
dropped to Nick's crotch. More than just Nick's fangs were jutting proudly. His
erection was unmistakable underneath the drape of his trousers.

Natalie let out a deep breath, glancing desperately around the kitchen. She
needed some water. Ice cubes down her pantyhose. Something to rescue her from
this madness!

"Looking for this?" Nick's voice trilled languorously.

Natalie turned to find Nick dangling a liter bottle of LaCroix water in one
hand. She took one small, cautious step closer, then stretched out her left arm
for Nick to hand the bottle over to her. "Thank you," she said, her throat
parched.

"Uh-uh-uh," Nick drawled, waggling the liter of LaCroix again. "If you want it,
come and get it."

Natalie edged closer, until only the length of her forearm could fit between
them. She extended her hand again. "Okay. Give me the water, Nick."

"Say 'please,'" he whispered huskily.

Natalie couldn't face the naked heat in his stare. She lowered her eyes, her
gaze immediately targeting other dangerous territory. Just inches . . . if she
moved just one step closer, let her fingers drift just a little bit lower, he'd
be in her hand, wrapped in her grip . . .

She darted her dry tongue over her lips. The motion gave her no relief. Natalie
met Nick's stare again. She was thirsty. She had never been this thirsty. Could
Nick, his face blood-gorged and rosy, understand her need?

She reduced her desire down to the one word she knew he was waiting for.
"Please."

Nick slowly twisted off the cap with his teeth, turning his head to spit it
across the room. The piece of white plastic ricocheted off a copper saucepan
hung over one of the many ranges, then plopped into a simmering tureen of
Bolognese.

"Open your mouth for me," Nick said softly.

The tiny remaining fragment of Natalie's scientific mind prickled. "Why?" she
whispered.

He offered no reasons, no explanations. Nick simply brushed his free thumb over
her lips, gently nudging them apart. "Open."

Natalie acquiesced to his urging, parting her teeth, a waiting receptacle
watching for what he would demand of her next.

Her eyes widened as Nick tilted the water bottle, and trickled a steady shower
of LaCroix into her eager mouth. Natalie swallowed, darting her tongue quickly
across the top of her chin as a drop of the precious liquid escaped.

"Is that good?" Nick said darkly. Natalie couldn't speak in her pleasure,
merely nodded blindly and swallowed again. "You want some more?"

"Give me more!" Natalie gasped. "It's so . . ." Invigorating! Mountain spring
fresh!

Nick cupped the back of her head, bringing her straining lips close enough to
suck at the opening, watching enraptured as Natalie's throat pulsed at each
gulp of cool LaCroix. "Swallow," he hissed in her ear, briefly scratching his
teeth against her jaw. "Swallow it all!"

Natalie tried, nodding with each mouthful. It was so delicious, so refreshing,
slaking a fraction of the need that burned within her, but soon, it became
overwhelming. She couldn't take it all, couldn't swallow fast enough.

She pushed the water bottle away with frenzied hands. "It's too much!"

"But you're still hot, Natalie," Nick murmured gravelly as he stepped behind
her, snaking one arm around her belly to pull her back up against his chest. "I
can feel it radiating from you . . . the heat . . . I can feel it igniting us
both."

Natalie could feel a lot, especially the thrust of Nick's arousal against her
bottom. One thirst quenched, the craving to rotate her hips against him pushed
to the forefront. "If I'm on fire," she mused distractedly as she gave into
temptation and flexed her pelvis, the added pressure creating a dizzy tangle of
yearning between her legs, "is it wise for you to get so close in your
condition?"

Nick laughed then, a sinful, hungry sound that promised everything but the
straight and narrow path of righteousness. His hand splayed against Natalie's
abdomen sank, holding her into him with a firm and steady grip. "I'll just have
to put your fire out."

Taking the half-full bottle of LaCroix, Nick tipped it lower and began to
drizzle Natalie's blouse with the chilled water. She started at the sensation,
her instinctive jump causing her cleft to buck against Nick's hand. Vibrations
flared through her with the friction, and she twitched again, shivered, sighed,
and rode his palm until the liter ran dry.

Natalie could feel the wet, cold fabric against her breasts, the water soaking
through the layers of silk and her bra. Her nipples had tightened until they
felt sore and demanding, pushing in two rebellious nubs against the material.
The combined stirrings had Natalie arching her back, rolling her head against
Nick's shoulder.

Nick tossed the empty water bottle aside, whirled Natalie around and backed her
against the kitchen's industrial-size refrigerator. He immediately covered her
breasts within the curve of his palms and began to slowly circle them, rubbing
her nipples beneath the swaddling of cool, damp fabric. As Nick bent his head
to suck at one, Natalie's thoughts initially scattered. But, as everyone knows
vampires are wont to do, he eventually tweaked her breast too hard with his
teeth. "Erp!" Natalie grunted, clutching at his hair and snapping her eyes
open.

With a new sense of awareness, Natalie suddenly discovered what her
estrogen-laden, haven't-gotten-laid-in-three-seasons sense of observation had
overlooked with her initial, dehydrated, lust-ridden perusal of the scene: the
sous-chef and two young dishwashers were watching the entire chain of events
>from where they cowered behind the cannoli and tiramisu station. Absorbing
their leering stares, Natalie wondered if the appropriate reaction to this
entire scenario wouldn't have been to run shrieking from the room rather than
delving into a watery, exhibitionist nursemaid fantasy. After all, Nick had
drained two people, killing one of them! Witnesses had observed his vampire
ravishment! Obviously he was on a rampage, expressing pent-up feelings of
denial. Nick needed reason, understanding, forgiveness and damage control to
move past this lapse in morality on the road to regaining his humanity . . .

Just then, Nick ripped her blouse open with his teeth, assuredly tugged down
the cups of her bra, and proceeded to tweak her nipple in a delicious,
right-on-the-money way. Natalie moaned. It had been three, long,
battery-operated seasons! Screw morality! Screw reason! Natalie planned to
screw Nick, and she'd do it in front of all Canada if that's what it took for
some satisfaction! She shot the surviving kitchen staff a wink and a wave.

Around the explosive land mine area of Nick's tongue, Natalie pulled at the
rest of her clothes, intent on her new goal. Her blouse was nothing. Her bra
unclasped and fell away with little effort. The earlier impromptu shower had
flowed down her stomach, dampening the waistband of her skirt. She managed to
unhook and unzip, but wriggling only bunched the soggy mass around her knees,
making her wobble weakly. Frustrated, and on the verge of tripping herself, Nat
focused her attention back on Nick. One of his shirtsleeves clung wetly to his
forearm - he'd been careless as he'd dribbled her with LaCroix. Natalie took
care of that in short order, yanking his shirt from his shoulders with a sound
of victory.

With so much naked Nick flesh finally within her reach, the scientific sector
of Natalie's brain churned, questioning if she shouldn't take skin and hair
samples to her heart's content. Meanwhile, Nick's mouth did something else
very, very clever to her cleavage. What had she been thinking about again?
Feeding Sidney? Naaaah.

"Mmmm," Natalie breathed. Oh yeah, samples . . . she'd sample everything. She'd
take him down and rock his world -

Nick's lips had begun to travel from her breasts down a winding trail over her
rounded belly. Suddenly, he broke contact, pulling his head back somewhat as he
stared at her in dumbfounded amazement. "What the -?"

Natalie tensed. Oh no! It was those fifteen pounds she hadn't managed to shake
since season two! Nick had located an errant deposit of cellulite and had
immediately been repelled by the realism of her thirtyish female form! "What,
Nick?" she snapped edgily. "What's wrong?"

Nick gaze flickered slightly left, then slightly right. What was a Knight to
do? He shrugged dazedly, then helplessly fingered the source of his
consternation:

He'd just come face-to-face with his first pair of control top panty hose.

"Nat, what . . . ?" Nick hemmed as he tried to pry one hand under the fierce
weave of modern fibers and failed, "What the hell are you wearing? It looks
uncomfortable." ~And pretty damn homely,~ he kept to himself. He was willing to
bet Little Tony's Mamma had on more enticing undergarments.

"Tell me about it," Natalie muttered. "Help me out of them!"

Nick continued his puzzled examination of the dull, brown vise-like material
that encased Natalie's rump like an overstuffed sausage. "But ~what are~ they?"

Nat made a huffy noise. "Come on! You're a big boy, Nick! Well . . . I hope you
are." Lusty pause. "Don't tell me you've never stripped a woman with support in
her stockings before!"

Nick frowned as he determinedly wedged his thumbs and index fingers under the
resistant waistband of the tights. Making a brief mental survey of his loves
and lusts throughout history: Gwenyth, Janette, Alyssa, Alexandra, Erika,
Serena, Miss Snarl-Hiss-Thud, and hundreds of nameless others . . . he came to
the rapid conclusion that they'd all been garter-sporting minimalists, or less.
"No, I haven't," he informed Natalie frankly, heaving her control top hose over
the curves of her derriere with a decisive grunt. It was a good thing he had
vampire strength!

As soon as Nick loosened his grip, the stockings snapped back into place. Nick
growled. "Dammit! Why would you wear such a thing?" he demanded.

"My clothes look better . . . they make me more shapely . . . " Natalie listed,
her breasts heaving impatiently.

"Fat lot of good they do if a guy can't reach the shape," Nick complained as he
lost yet another battle with Lycra.

It was Natalie's turn to growl. She slapped Nick's hands away from her thighs
and took her own de-hosing in hand. "Honestly, Nick! It's amazing how you take
a simple, little matter like . . . oh, say . . . getting naked and turn it into
this gigantic, theatrical production!" There! With a firm snap of
less-than-sheer energy, Natalie tossed the tricky control tops aside and
stepped slowly around Nick, body bare in a kitchen getting hotter by the
second.

She hooked her fingers around Nick's belt, saying with scientific
determination, "Let's see what surprises ~you're~ hiding."

Nick thought about pulling her up, taking control and insisting he could shuck
his own pants, merci beaucoup. Who was the homicidal predator in the room,
anyway? Consuming the lascivious promise in Natalie's expression, however, he
realized that she planned to eat him alive. It was like old home week at the
Raven! Nick leaned back against the fridge, waiting with anticipation for his
ravishment. His thoughts were, although he had finished with being 'the nice
guy who drinks blood and angsts' and was again 'the dark prince of the hootchie
fang,' Natalie probably hadn't gotten laid for three seasons. She'd been too
wrapped up trying to make his life better through a little mortality. The least
he could do was allow her to have her wicked way with him once and for all
before he drained her.

Nick issued a satisfied grunt as Natalie made quick work of his zipper and
wrapped her warm fingers around the base of his erection. Expectation made his
nerves vibrate, for there were few mortals who would know how to handle a naked
dead guy better than a coroner.

A few seconds passed, then a full minute. Nick's anticipation was deflowered
into impatience. Nat wasn't doing anything to him! Making an annoyed sound,
Nick looked down. Who did a guy have to know to get devoured nowadays?

He found Natalie, still grasping his cock, but staring at the head like it was
a pair of control top pantyhose. "You're uncircumcised," Natalie said
accusingly.

"Yeah. So?" Nick said, a hint of 'can we get on with it?' in his voice.

"So . . . " Natalie said with her doctor's mantle permeating her tone. "The
incidence of urinary tract infection is higher in uncut foreskins." She
shivered. "I once did an autopsy on a man who died from gangrene of the
penis -"

"Naaaat..." Nick groaned. "You're killing the mood, and I'm already dead,
remember? I've tried getting a circumcision, to be more like a modern mortal
male . . . but it keeps growing back!" He delved into a momentary lapse of
angst, because old habits die hard. The hardness of his cock was even more
demanding, though, so he banished his past disappointments and regrouped.
"Anyway, what's a little extra foreskin between friends?" He shot her a
suggestive grin.

She considered his words, clinical permutations rattling in her head. Finally,
Nat held down the flap and rimmed him with a short lick. "You know, you're
right. If I'm willing to eat Twinkies and Minute Gourmet . . ."

Nick groaned again. Natalie twisted her fingers in a spiral about his shaft
with one hand and fluttered the tip of her tongue frenzily against his knob,
like she'd discovered a new research track in churning out protein shakes.
"Ahhhh . . . Naaaat . . . "

But amidst all her well-meaning sucking and stroking, Natalie encountered
another roadblock to bliss as she took a break in her lustful purpose and
dropped a clinical eye to the color of Nick's pre-cum oozing into the equation
through her pumping ministrations. "Pfffbbt!!" she sputtered, suddenly longing
for a wet nap. "Oh, you're blerm's spoody!" She shook her head, flustered with
this new, unwelcome discovery. "I mean, you're sperm's bloody! You know, Nick,
you could have mentioned that a little earlier. Raised the awareness. Given a
head's up, as it were. I may swallow Twinkies, but I have limits! That may go
down with the fangy tramps you're used to, but I'm all mortal, all woman!"

Frustration welled within Nick. He'd expected Natalie to ooh and ahh over his
manly beauty, not express detractive opinions concerning the state and function
of Little Nicky. That's it! It was her turn to be ravished!

Nick hefted Natalie up by her buttocks and dumped her on one of the kitchen's
stainless steel preparatory tables. "Shut up, Natalie," he snapped as his
fingers delved into her slit. She might complain about seeing to his needs, but
that hadn't stopped her from working herself into a monsoon season between her
legs.  His voice turned heavy and full of dark intentions. "I'm going to take
you . . . ~thump-thump~ . . . and you're going to like it . . . ~thump-thump~ .
. ."

Natalie shook her head, fighting the hypnotic thrall of his stare even as she
reared into his hand, her body language asking for more. "Cut that out, Nick,"
she said. "You know I'm immune." But Nick dropped to his knees and attacked the
moist core of her, his tongue tap-dancing on her clit, while his fingers
continued to work their magic. "Oh! . . . Ohhhh . . . Okay, okay, Nick! . . .
Immune-shimmune . . . I like it . . . I like it . . . I . . . liiiike . . .
iiiiiittt!!!"

Nick pulled back momentarily, glancing up at her flushed features with a
mischievous grin. "You like it?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"Say it again." Nick punctuated his suggestion with an in and out thrust of his
digits.

"Oh, I like it."

"Again," Nick commanded, proceeding to demonstrate just how fast vampires could
vibrate their thumbs.

"Ohhhhh . . . liking it . . . very much . . . "

Time had passed, and Nick and Natalie had been left to their own devices for
quite a while. Back at their table, Schanke grew increasingly impatient for the
bread refill he'd commissioned Natalie to bring back along with his digestively
wacky partner.

"Man, what's keeping them?" Don complained to Myra. "Wiping the sauce up on my
plate is the best part!"

Myra patted his hand. "I know, Donnie. Just be patient." Her eyes acquired a
dreamy, lover-of-love tint. "Nick and Nat - those two would make a great
couple. What if we invite them back to the house for coffee? We could make them
sit next to each other on the couch! Maybe they'd let more of their feelings
for each other show if we gave them a push. A brush of knees here, elbows
touching there . . . who knows what might happen?"

Don gave her a peck on the check. "You're such a romantic, hon." He pushed out
of his chair. "I'd better go warn Nick and Nat you've got your matchmaking
sights set on them. They don't stand a chance!" He adjusted his belt, pulling
his slacks up more over his hefty, pasta-filled stomach. "I'll see what's
happened to my bread while I'm at it."

"Hurry back!" Myra called.

Schanke's jovial whistle deconstructed into a squeaky honk as soon as he
entered the kitchen. He took in the scene, noting the details with uncanny
detective prowess: Natalie naked on a countertop, panting and humping his
partner's face, someone's dead granny sprawled on the floor next to the
prosciutto station, Little Tony leaning against the island housing drying
pasta, groggily rubbing his head and fainting, the sous-chef thrusting against
the dessert station, masturbating himself within a handful of marscapone as he
drooled at the sight of Natalie's bouncing breasts, and two, young dishwashers
engaging in a love that dare not speak its name because it involved some
deviant things with Brillo pads and rubber gloves.

Schanke scratched his thinning hairline and let out a slow sound to show that
he was impressed. "Well, cock-a-doodle-do!" He tilted his head, adjusting the
angle with which he observed Nick's technique, then said to himself, "I guess
I'll have to tell Myra they're past the couch-sharing phase."

Natalie halted in the middle of her current cry of 'IIIIII . . . LIIIIKKKKEEE .
. . IIIITTT!!!!!!' her eyes snapping open. "Schanke! What . . . ooohhh . . .
what are you . . . ohyeah . . . doing here?"

"Bread," Don said pointedly, as if all the kitchens in his life were filled
with murder and oral sex. Well, he ~was~ part Italian. "You were supposed to
get me some more bread when you came." He tapped his temple. "Remember? Does
anything of what I'm saying ring a bell?"

"Ohhh, yeeaah," Natalie moaned with a ragged breath as Nick's head moved
briskly from side to side. "That's it! That's it!" She leaned back, supporting
her torso on one arm as she fumbled blindly with the menu supplies behind her.
Finding a crusty loaf waiting to be served, Natalie grabbed it and waved it in
the air. Nick chose that moment to nibble on her engorged clit. She released an
ecstatic shriek, hugging the loaf to her chest, frantically rubbing her nipples
against the hard surface of the bread. "Oh! Oh! Here!" she shouted suddenly,
her voice possessed like an escapee from a late-night showing of 'The
Sexorcist.' "Here! Here's your bread! Bread! Bread! I'm coming! I'm coming! I
like it! Brrreeeaaad!!!!!"

Schanke caught the loaf in both hands. He broke off an end piece and began to
chew as he watched Natalie babble rampant appreciation of baked goods
throughout her orgasm. What!? Sex made him hungry, and he'd been waiting a long
time for his refill!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Scene One

Feedback to: my_name_is_shemp@hotmail.com

Scene Two
By Shemp

Nick stood, splaying one hand across Natalie's stomach as the waves of her
climax ebbed. His senses flared, catching the scent of an unmistakable hint of
aftershave. He whirled to find Schanke munching on Italian ~pane~, a wide smirk
on his face.

"Howdy, partner," Schanke joked, jabbing the untouched end loaf up and down
like a meter's worth of phallus. "What's up?! Hardee-har-har!"

Nick consciously pressed his lips together and lowered his eyes, trying to
shield the signs of the vampire. "Schank, it's not what you think."

"What's to think? I've always known something like this might happen. Way to
go, buddy! Man, I remember my crazy single days with Myra. There was this one
time at the vacuum cleaner store . . . " Schanke got around to catching a good
glimpse of Nick's erection. "Whoa, Knight! You've got a live one there! Way to
pick 'em, Nat!"

She gave Schanke a thumbs-up sign, then glanced over at the sous-chef, who'd
found his release amongst the pastry and had just lit up a cigarette. Nat
snapped her fingers, and the staff member leapt at the chance to share a smoke
with a naked woman.

Suddenly, Don frowned. "Wait a sec, Nick - you haven't been circumcised!"
Schanke took another bite of bread, then scratched his temple again,
overwhelmed with concern. "You think you know a guy . . ."

Nick snarled at him, growing a little self-conscious about the constant
comments regarding the peculiarities of his penis. "Yeah, Schank - I'm a
vampire, too. What do you think of that, ~partner?~"

"Doh! I ~knew~ that! I was just playing dumb, figuring you'd own up sooner or
later." Don shrugged. "But uncircumcised . . . Geez, Nick - I never expected
that!" His expression became curious. "Uhm, you wouldn't mind if I took a
closer look, would you? I've never known a guy who wasn't snipped. Being a man,
I've always wondered . . . "

"Help yourself," Natalie said on a puff of smoke. "I can spare him long enough
for show-and-tell."

While Schanke stepped forward, Nick pouted angrily. "I am not a sexual oddity!
I am a vampire! I have needs! I deserve respect!"

"I respect you," Natalie countered. "And your mouth - I respect your mouth very
much!"

Schanke bent over, his nose a couple of inches away from the hovering tip of
Nick's erection as he gave it a thoughtful study. "It's kinda like you've
permanently got a ski-cap on your dick, isn't it? Hey - is it true what they
say about keeping them clean?"

"Yes!" "No!" Nat and Nick said at the same time.

While all this was going on, Myra grew lonely all by herself at the table. She
decided to go to the ladies' room and refresh her Skin Pretty makeup, but as
she passed the doors to the kitchen, she thought she heard cries of discord.
~What was going on in there?!~ she wondered as she barreled inside, determined
to find out just what was taking so long with Nick, Natalie, and her Donnie.
She found her husband giving her a back view as he bent at the waist in front
of his naked partner, his head blocking any view of Knight's crotch. Her mind
immediately jumped to the dirtiest conclusion.

"Donnie! What are you doing!?!"

Schanke dropped his bread, straightened guiltily and immediately rushed over to
soothe his wife. "Myra, honey! Lamb Chop! It's not what you think!"

Myra turned her back on him. "Sure, Nick's good-looking, but if you think I'm
going to watch while you give him a blowjob, you've got another thing coming!"
She humphed. "'The Blue Brotherhood!' My mother warned me this would happen!"

"Your mother wouldn't know a blowjob from a blowtorch!" Schanke shouted. "Now I
see where you get it!"

"Oh, yeah???" Myra shouted back warningly.

"Yeah!"

Myra leapt on him, knocking Schanke to the floor. "You'll take that back,
Donnie! You'll eat every word!"

"Hah!"

Myra crouched over her husband's stomach, her knees barely touching the floor.
"I'll show you who knows blowjobs, you ~and~ Little Donnie!" A provoked
lioness, Myra dug his semi-erect member free and went to work on it like she'd
just cornered a wildebeest calf in the veldt.

Schanke was still focused on her words, not her deeds. "Hey! We talked about
that! No more 'Little Donnie'! You promised to call him 'The Detective of
Love'!"

Natalie watched the couple's interchange as she finished her cigarette and
issued a dreamy sigh.

Nick turned back to her, resting his hands on her open thighs. "What is it,
Nat?"

"Marriage," Natalie mused. "What Schanke and Myra have . . . you can see how
special it is."

Nick glanced over his shoulder, catching a quizzical glimpse of the matrimonial
action. Schank had just yelped 'Hasta la baby!' to which Myra crooned, 'Is The
Detective of Love horny? Let me give him a commendation!'

Nick looked back at Natalie, a wry twist to his lips. "They're something beyond
special, I think," he said, then leaned closer, allowing the tip of his
still-hard cock to prod against her slick entrance. "Forget them. Let's get
back to us." He slanted his mouth against hers, licking at the taste of
nicotine on her tongue, running his hands back up to cup her breasts as he
pushed forward even more . . .

"Mmm . . . " All at once, Natalie scooted her derriere back on the counter
several inches, forestalling penetration. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

His brow furrowed. "You want even more foreplay?"

"No, silly." Nat reached out and clasped Nick's erection, tickling the
underside with her nails. "Protection, you know?"

Nick stared at her blankly. "What?"

Natalie sighed with exasperation. "A condom!"

"What?"

"Oh, please! Don't tell me you've never used a condom before! You're how old .
. . ?"

Nick dropped his hands from her breasts, feeling a bit defensive. "I haven't
exactly needed to, Nat. I'm dead. I'm sterile. What's the point?"

Her voice rose hotly. "Protection is important, Nick! It's a sign of respect
for your female partner. It shows you care for her health and safety!" Natalie
stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "And you might not live in mortal
fear of STDs, Nick, but I know you were cured through exposure to HIV during
the epidemic of vampire fever. I'm not interested in taking that kind of
chance! I don't even want to begin to imagine the kind of adventures you've
gotten your Forever Foreskin into over the past eight centuries. If you don't
wear a raincoat, I'll have to pass!"

Nick made a face. Chances? What was Nat thinking sex with a vampire was? Bingo
night? He shrugged, unrepentant as he informed her, "Well, we're at an impasse,
because you want a condom, and I don't have one."

"I guess you're right. We have a problem," Nat retorted snippily.

They heard someone clear his throat. Nick and Nat glanced over, finding the
sous-chef helpfully offering a strip of foil packets. "Go onna - make-a the
Signora verra happy!"

As Nick accepted the condoms with speculative wonder, one of the young
dishwashers gave a shout. "Uncle Vinny! You bonzo! What you wanna give him ~i
preservativi~ for?!"

"Si, si!" the other dishwasher chimed in. "Il vampiro...he suck-a Mamma and
Little Tony!"

"You crazy ~omosessuali~! Whatsa condom?! É amore!" Vinny declared, waving his
arms in the air and shooing them back toward the kitchen sink. "Enough of you
lazy boy toys! Let-a the nice lady and vampire fuck in peace! Back-a to your
dishes! I wanna see them sparkle! I wanna see them shine!"

Meanwhile, love among the Schankes was anything but peaceful. Don clutched at
his wife's rump, groaning like a moose in rutting season. "Myra, honey, I take
it back! I take back every bad thing I've ever said about your mother and your
blowjobs." There was a slurping sound, and Schanke gave a hoot reminiscent of a
young boy playing with firecrackers. "Man, oh man! Where'd you learn that?!"

"Mmph! The last Skin Pretty seminar, Donnie . . . mmph-mmm . . . You didn't
really think I spent the entire weekend discussing piña colada sunscreen, did
you?"

"Man, oh man!" Between his exclamations and the squelches of Myra's
ministrations, there came a ringing sound. "Oh, Myra, you're a goddess! I hear
bells, babe! I hear bells!"

His wife stopped what she was doing. "It's your cell phone, Donnie. Let me
answer it. It might be Jenny with a problem!"

"No!" Schanke moaned. "Don't stop! Keep doing what you're doing! I'll take the
call!"

"I don't know . . . What if Jen needs some motherly advice? What if she notices
anything?"

Don scrambled in the pockets of his jacket. "She won't! She won't! Come on,
babe! I'll do whatever you want - just let me get this call!"

"Okay, I'll hold you to that," Myra said, "but you better act normal if it's
our daughter."

"Right, right." Schanke answered the phone. "Ahem. Hello?" His eyes widened at
the voice on the other end of the line. "Jenny! Heh-heh . . . didn't expect to
hear from you! What's up, kiddo?" Don made a face like he was really trying to
concentrate hard. "Well, that's good. I'm glad you and your friends are having
a nice time . . . What's that? You wanna know what Mom and I are doing? . . .
Err . . . Hmm . . . Whoa . . . Ahhh . . . nothing. Just the normal adult stuff.
We're having dinner at a restaurant . . . You want to ask your mom permission
about something? . . . Err, Mommy's got her mouth full right now. Can't you ask
your ole dad instead? . . . Hey! I'll be cool! . . . No, I can keep an open
mind . . . Trust me, kid. Your dad is really open to suggestion right now. Give
it a shot . . . You're where? . . . How'd you get there? . . . Laura's mom
drove you? . . . Okay, okay. So what is it you want to get pierced? . . .
Ooooh, yeah, baby! . . . Oh, sorry, Jen. Nothing's wrong here. Uh, it sounds
like you know what you want. Go for it! . . . Yeah, yeah! GO FOR IT!!! . . .
Ho-ho-ho. Man, oh man . . . What? No, Jenny. I'm not being sarcastic. Can't a
guy show a little enthusiasm? Do what you want, and have a fun evening . . .
Right, I'll tell her . . . Love you, too . . . Bye-e!" Schanke ended the call,
closed his eyes, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "You, Myra: mother of
my child, cream of my coffee, pita of my souvlaki . . . You are a fantastic
woman!" Don gave her bottom a love pat, then heaved his wife around to drape
across his chest.

Myra licked her lips and smiled. "Thank you, Donnie-bear. It's nice to be
appreciated." She kissed her husband's chin, then said, "So what did our little
girl want?"

Don cuddled Myra tightly. "She sends you her love."

"That's nice. What else?"

"Uh . . . well, I was a bit preoccupied thanks to you, but she mentioned
something about the Andersons dropping the girls off at a tattoo parlor and
asked if she could get her tongue pierced."

"Don!!!" Myra sat up straight and thumped his chest. "You didn't tell her
'yes,' did you?"

"Well . . . kinda . . . yeah! Was that bad?"

"Of course it's bad! Jennifer's only eleven! She'd already asked me last month,
and I told her absolutely not until she was twelve in case it was just a
phase!"

"Oh, sorry, babe." Don blinked up at her with repentant-husband-eyes. "Don't
worry, honeybuns. Tongue piercing? That's gotta hurt like hell! I bet the kid
will take one look at the hole puncher and chicken out!"

Myra wasn't so easily persuaded. "Humph."

Schanke rubbed her hips consolingly. "It was an honest mistake! I goofed! Let
me make it up to you, Venus de My-o."

Myra's eyelids became calculating slits. "Well . . . you did promise you'd do
whatever I want . . . and I think you should be ~punished~ for your careless
parenting!"

Schanke gulped. "Lay it on me, hot mama. Lay it on me!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Scene Two

Feddback to: my_name_is_shemp@hotmail.com


Scene Three
By Shemp

Natalie twisted her pelvis to and fro. "Yes! Yes, Nick! Take me now!"

He complied, thrusting deep with each stroke. The sound of Natalie's heartbeat
roared in his ears. Nick's fangs yearned intensely for the taste of her,
filling him with a sharp desire to sink them into the depths of something
fleshy and firm and experience the rapture that came from sucking the essence
of a living thing into his body. He was hard-pressed to fight the urge,
couldn't find the will to hold back. Natalie's head was thrown back in
pleasure, the smooth, pale stretch of her throat bare and enticing. Nick was on
the verge, his balls tightening, his teeth stretching, so close to his climax.
He threw back his head, snarling as he spread his jaws and dove toward
completion.

The second Natalie recognized the flash of pointy, white teeth, her senses went
into panic mode. Fangs. Biting. Danger! She grabbed the first condiment bottle
her fingers encountered on the table to ward off the inevitable. While Natalie
experienced a simultaneous rash of pleasure and pain when Nick's jaws sank
through her flesh, she squeezed the plastic tube at her vampire lover, letting
loose a spurt of green mush.

Nick stumbled back as the pesto sauce drenched his chest, hissing as the minced
garlic from the mixture painfully seared his skin. "Ah! It burns!"

A dishcloth flew through the air from the direction of the kitchen sink.
Natalie caught it in one hand, bounced off of the table, and wiped the sauce
away efficiently. "You can't really blame me, Nick," she said in a level voice.
"I didn't get the impression that you planned to stop with one sip."

He flattened one hand against the wounds on his chest, feeling them already
begin to close beneath his touch. He glanced at her with eyes that still
glittered a faint heat. "I didn't," he admitted.

Natalie wrung the dishcloth in her hands with frustration. "Why, Nick? Why?
After all our work, why tonight? Why attack Little Tony and kill his Mamma? Why
drain me now, after everything we've been through?"

"Nat, I'm a vampire. It's what I do," he said plainly. After a brief pause, his
expression furrowed with suspicion. "The tortellini Alfredo I had for dinner
might be suspect, too."

Natalie responded with the perpetually succinct word that true scientists have
uttered during such illuminating moments throughout the rich pageant of
history. "Huh?"

"I'm glad you squirted me with pesto, Natalie," he said, rubbing his
now-unblemished chest thoughtfully. "It was like I couldn't control my own
desires, like I was under some kind of spell." Nick stroked the curve of her
jaw, following that with a soft kiss. "Thank you. You saved me from doing
something else I would have gravely regretted."

"Huh?" Natalie said again, holding up one palm vertically and waving it in the
air. "Excuse me? Am I supposed to be happy that you equate sex with me with
regret?!"

"No, no!" Nick clasped her upper arms, squeezing her reassuringly. "I don't
regret that at all! I would have regretted ~killing~ you."

"Oh." Natalie cocked her head slightly and gave him a winsome smile. "That's
okay, then. But why do you blame the tortellini Alfredo?"

"Si, Signore Vampiro!" Vinny had approached, holding out a Band-Aid for Natalie
to use to cover her neck wounds. "The Alfredo was Little Tony's Mamma's
specialty! Molto bene!"

"Yes," Nick said in a placating tone. "I'm sure it is, but Alfredo sauce
contains nutmeg." He emphasized the last word, as if it should make everything
clear to the others.

"Huh?" Natalie and Vinny echoed in unison.

Nick ran a flustered hand through his hair, mussing it into disarray. Natalie
subconsciously began to rearrange it into a semblance of neatness as he
explained, "I'd heard stories, but I thought they were old wives' tales for
vampires. Garlic weakens us and slakes the ferocity of a vampire through
discomfort. Nutmeg is said to be the exact opposite. It strengthens our
passions, and causes the pleasure of a vampire's desires to become
irresistible."

"An aphrodisiac! Little Tony's Mamma would have-a been so happy!"  Vinny
declared and began to hum 'Caro mio ben' as he returned happily to his cooking.

Natalie blinked with bemusement. "Nutmeg works like a shot of vampire Viagara
to the system?"

"Luckily it's run its course," Nick said ruefully.

Natalie noticed his gaze kept drifting downward to her breasts. "We've shared
an entrée," she said hopefully, "but what about dessert?"

Nick butterflied the back of one hand across her nipples, and they tightened
instantly. "We do still have a nice number of Vinny's condoms left . . . "

"Waste not, want not," she murmured.

"But, Nat," Nick said, clasping her hips and holding her close, "there's still
a problem. When I come, I have to bite something, and I don't want that to be
you. I'm not positive I can hold back in the moment."

"So we'll find something else for you to bite," Natalie assured him. "Even sex
has four food groups!"

While Nick and Natalie contemplated nutritional pyramids merged with the Kama
Sutra, the Schankes could have easily given them a demonstration of an improper
diet. Myra had stripped off her simple shirtdress to reveal that she was one of
those minimalist garter belt types. She's also favored a plaid satin demi-bra
with matching crotchless panties, which promptly earned her a salute >from The
Detective of Love.

Myra had taken a swift survey of the kitchen as she formulated her plan to
discipline her husband for his poor judgment on the 'Jenny wants her tongue
pierced' issue. She placed an order with Vinny, requisitioned a bottle of olive
oil for the interim, and strolled back to Schanke.

Myra stood straddling him, one hand propped on her hip with disapproval.
"You're still clothed, Detective. I am very displeased."

Schanke scrambled to a seat, almost strangling himself in his rush to rip off
his tie. "Yes, ma'am!"

When her husband was naked, Myra flattened him on his back with the heel of one
shoe, then sat forcefully on top of him so that his hard-on was tucked under
the curves of her bottom. As she uncapped the olive oil, Schanke watched his
wife nervously. "What do you plan to do with that?"

"Give you a rubdown," Myra said nonchalantly as she began to drizzle his chest
and stomach with the golden liquid.

"And that's my punishment?" Schanke said hopefully.

"Don't be silly, Detective," Myra said as her hands glided over his hairy
torso. "It's extra virgin."

"So what does my Perp of Passion have planned?" Don asked, playing along.

"That's for me to know . . . " She flattened her hands on his belly and
jiggled. " . . . And for you to find out."

"Okie-dokey. Do your worst!" Schanke bent his arms and propped up his head by
folding his hands under his neck. "The Detective of Love can take it!"

Myra humored him as she weaved her fingers in a figure 8 around his nipples.
"Of course he can."

After a few quiet minutes of kneading, rolling, mashing and smoothing, Schanke
piped up again with a thoughtful, "Myra?"

"Yes, Donnie?"

"The fumes of that olive oil must be going to my head. Man, I sure am -"

"Hungry?" his wife interrupted.

"Yeah! I'm famished! How'd you guess?"

"Sex makes you hungry, Donnie-bear." She tickled his belly button and giggled
as his stomach rumbled. "Massage makes you hungry. Work makes you hungry. Play
makes you hungry. Come to think of it, breathing makes you hungry!"

"I can't help it, Myra! I have large appetites!"

"I don't want you to help it," she said firmly. "I plan to take advantage your
hefty appetites!"

Just then, Vinny appeared overhead, carrying a huge stainless steel mixing bowl
covered with aluminum foil. "Your-a order, Signora. Warm and-a tasty! You wanna
plate? Some silverware?"

"Just napkins will do," Myra said happily as she accepted the bowl.

"What's in there?" Schanke asked.

"Can't you tell?" Myra countered enigmatically as she pulled off the shiny
cover.

Don sniffed the air, pinpointing the fragrance of a mouthwatering combination
of spices, sauce, and - "Meatballs?" he said with wonder. "Myra! You're the
best!"

She waggled her index finger at him. "Not so fast, Detective. That's 'Perp of
Passion' to you!" Vinny reappeared with the napkins, and Myra thanked him
before he returned to his other culinary affairs. "Now for your punishment . .
. "

Schanke grinned expectantly, his mouth watering. "Yeah?"

"You have to say 'Myra's mother is the greatest' . . . "

Schanke shrugged. "Myra's mother is the greatest," he repeated dutifully.
"Whaddya know? That didn't hurt at all!"

Myra pinched one of his nipples.

"Oof!"

"You didn't say that like you *meant* it," his wife lectured. "You have to
repeat 'Myra's mother is the greatest' until I believe you're sincere."

Don grimaced. "Man!"

"And . . . " Myra trilled, her hand disappearing into the stainless steel bowl
and returning with a juicy meatball the size of a golf ball. " . . . You have
to say those words as I stuff meatballs into your mouth. No chewing."

"Myra! Hon, that's torture! I'm hungry! A man's gotta eat!"

"It's your punishment," his wife told him sternly. "But if you do it well, you
get a reward." Myra bobbed her derriere so that her slit rubbed the length of
his cock. "The Detective of Love will catch his Perp!"

"Why didn't you say so? Myra's mother is the greatest!" Schanke held his mouth
open wide for a meatball. His wife popped a plump one between his lips. "Myra's
mother is the greatest!" Schanke responded dutifully, then grinned. "Hey, this
isn't so bad! I can suck off the sauce even while I hold them in my mouth!"
Myra gave him another meatball. "Myra's mother is the greatest!" And another.
"Myruh's muther iz the greatest!"

"Very good!" she congratulated as she reached between them, targeting his
erection so that it eased inside her clinging walls. "Keep it up. Detective!"
Myra began to ride him with firm bounces of her rump. The pace with which she
shoved meatballs into her husband's mouth matched the rhythm of the smacking of
their flesh.

"Myrah's muther i' tha' grea' est!" Another meatball. "Mywa's muver i' fa'
gwea'est!" Another. "Mya's mu'er i' uh ea'est!" And yet another. "Ahhh . . .
Ya's murrr s'aaaa eaaaa-yah!"

"Oooh, Donnie," Myra cooed as she pounded up and down. "That's why I love you -
your big mouth!"

Schanke'd just earned another meatball.
"Mmmmmaaa-mmmpph-iii-eeeaaa-iiiisssssss!!!"

"You're doing it, Detective! You're doing it!"

"Mmmmmmmfffffffffffffffhhhhhhhh!!!!!!"

Just then, the phone rang again.

Schanke's eyes rounded in horror. "Mmmmph-mooooooo!!!!"

Myra patted his chest consolingly. "It might be Jenny again, dear. You just lie
back," she said, keeping up the pace of her hips, but instead of reaching for
another meatball this time, she grabbed her husband's cell phone. "I'll take
care of everything."

"Aaaaaaaa," Schanke replied and nodded.

"Mmm . . . Hello?" Myra said, answering the call. "Jenny? Is that you? . . .
Well, you don't quite sound yourself . . . You want to talk to Daddy? I'm
sorry, Jenny, but he has his mouth full . . . Yeeess . . . we're still at the
restaurant . . . Sweetie, I can barely understand you . . . Yes, you, Jenny . .
. Ohhhhhhh. Yeeeess . . . Daddy mentioned that he gave you permission. I'm very
disappointed in you, young lady. You knew how I felt about the tongue piercing
. . . Ummmm-hmmmm . . . So you went through with it?" Myra glared at her
husband and smacked him on the chest, even as she continued to fuck him while
speaking on the phone. " . . . And it's swollen . . . hmmmm . . . oooo . . .
well, sweetie, suck on an ice cube to numb it . . . You sound upset. Is there
something else? . . . Honey, is there someone else there? I can't understand
you . . . Weeellll, ohhhhh . . . mmmm . . . put Laura's mom on the phone . . .
Bye, sweetie . . . oh, oh, yeah! . . . oh . . . Oh! Mrs. Anderson! Rebecca! Why
does Jennifer sound so upset? . . . Mmmm-hmmm . . . right . . . right . . . The
other girls did what? . . . They did? . . . ohhhhh . . . Then what happened? .
. . Oh! Oh my! . . . Oh my! . . . We'll be there! . . . We'll . . . be . . .
right . . . there!!" Myra shut off the phone and threw it across the kitchen,
writhing spasmodically on top of her husband. "Chew, Donnie! It's time for you
to chew! Ohhh . . . NICE WORK DETECTIVE!!!!"

Schanke munched and chomped. As he convulsively swallowed the mash of
meatballs, he came hard, churning with dizzying orgasmic force. As his climax
ebbed away and his mouth emptied, Don erupted in an enthusiastic burp. "Man,
that hit the spot!"

Myra collapsed against his chest and began to dab gingerly at the tomato stains
around his mouth. "Yes, you did a very good job, Donnie-bear. We're going to
have to get up, though."

Schanke frowned. "Why? What did Jen want?"

"She needs us to come get her," Myra explained. "Her sleepover's been called
off on account of some of the girls wound up in the hospital. We need to pick
her up there." As her husband tensed, she soothed his brow. "Our baby's okay.
She's just shaken."

"Oh." Schanke glanced over to Nick and Nat, who were doing something strange
with a root vegetable. "Should we tell Knight and Lambert we're going?"

"I think it would only be polite," Myra replied. "But let's give them a minute
while we dress. We're going, but it looks like they're coming."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Scene Three

Feedback to: my_name_is_shemp@hotmail.com

Scene Four
By Shemp

Nick and Natalie decided to concentrate on raw foods, since so many items on
Little Tony's prepared menu contained either garlic or nutmeg. Some exceptions
existed, because Natalie's hankering for chocolate mousse had yet to be
satisfied. Aware of her fetish, Nick smeared a spoonful across his chest.

"That's unfair," Natalie stated. "We're on a mission for you! Distractions are
bad." She eyed the mocha-colored fluff clinging to his skin and licked her
lower lip. Desire rippled through her, while at the same time, she felt a
reoccurring annoyance. True to form, here she was, putting forth serious effort
toward helping Nick address his vampire issues. As usual, before the plan even
had a chance to produce results, Nick was wandering off-course! Natalie licked
her lips again. ~But it was chocolate mousse . . . !~

"You're the one who brought up dessert," Nick countered wickedly.

Natalie's expression melted into a similar conspiratorial smile. "Maybe I
should eat my words . . . ?" She gave into the temptation of something sticky,
creamy and sweet. Nat pressed her mouth against his cool flesh, cleaning him
off with lingering laps of her tongue.

"Dessert's not all you've brought up," Nick said ruefully after a minute. As
Natalie continued to suck and tease unrepentantly at his torso, his fingers
clenched at a delicate piece of tenderized veal from among the waiting
ingredients. His passion growing from her attentions, Nick wrapped the smooth
cut of red meat around his cock in a fleshy sheath and began to jerk into his
hand.

Natalie looked down once she'd reduced the chocolate mousse on Nick's chest to
a faint sheen of saliva. "Mmm, it ~is~ a mortal inclination to play with your
food." Eyeing the steady passage of the veal around his erection, Natalie
licked her lips yet again. Some egg, a few breadcrumbs - a gal could make a
meal out of that! A longing ripple spread through her vagina, and Natalie
squeezed her thighs together. She could feel the wetness there, as if she'd
started to boil to the point that her nether lips had begun to bubble and
overflow.

Science, however, and her dedication to sanitary codes, ruled. Natalie reached
out, her fingers enveloping Nick's. "I thought we'd decided you'd already had
enough extra protein tonight," she murmured lightheartedly. "And left in the
open, unattended like that - the Salmonella . . . the e. Coli!" She unwrapped
the veal from his cock and threw it toward the trash, replaced the cut with her
hand and continued the stroking. The meat had given the taut skin of his
erection a greasy sheen that allowed Nat's touch to wind and twist around him
with effortless friction. "Why don't you give some other mortal food a try?"
she suggested silkily.

Nick closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the sensations she was causing.
Before long, though, he stilled her hand. Bringing her palm to his mouth, Nick
sucked at Natalie's index finger, slickly in and out, until she caught her
breath in anticipation. Then, laying her hand to rest against the edge of the
table, Nick looked over her shoulder to choose from the ingredients spread out
over the surface. "I don't know . . . I think I could be in the mood for some
fruit . . . " He scooped up some ripe raspberries, pressing them into her cleft
and rotating his hand.

Natalie gasped as she felt juice trickle down her thighs, intuitively leaning
closer. Nick dropped to his knees, hooking one of Natalie's legs over his back
so that he would have ample access to taste freely. Her curls had trapped bits
of berry within their twists, and Nick wound his tongue through them to capture
the tiny morsels in his mouth. Reddish-pink raspberry juice had flowed >from her
curls to gather in tiny drops hanging precariously from her aroused clit and
flush love lips. Nick licked at them in sharp swipes, then turned his head,
lathing the pale skin of her inner thigh free of fragrant pink streaks. "It's
sweet . . . " he murmured softly. "A little tart . . . Far better than I
expected . . . better than I would have imagined."

Natalie hung on to the edge of the table to keep herself upright. "Niiiick - no
more fruit! Noooo . . . Yes! Do it to me! Now! There!" She grabbed at his hair,
pulling him into a stand.

As Nick busied himself with a condom, he asked urgently, "What do I bite?"

"I don't know!" Natalie exclaimed with a harried shake of her head. "You should
have thought of that before you got us distracted!"

Nick entered her with a solid thrust that had her bottom primed against the
edge of the table. "Just pick something!" he said frantically.

Natalie wrapped her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles at the base of
his spine to give her more leverage. She twisted at her waist, trying to get a
better look at the food options they had at their disposal, even while her body
swam at a tense pitch, and Nick continued to jam a helix in and out of the
center of her experience. "What about this?" Natalie grabbed the first suitable
item she saw, holding the glossy purple vegetable up for Nick's inspection.

His nose began to twitch, and he sneezed. "Uhhh-uh, Nat. Not eggplant."

Natalie tossed it aside. Second try, she chose a piece of fruit. She felt very
lucky about fruit this evening. "An apple a day keeps the doctor away!" she
sang, presenting Nick with the Red Delicious.

Nick gave her a warm look, then kissed her hotly and openly on the mouth.
"~That,~ I've tried. Didn't work, or haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, I'm noticing," Nat replied breathily. "Believe me . . . ahhhhh . . . I'm
noticing! But, Nick! I'm running out of things that will fit your mouth!" She
reached with the tips of her fingers, grasping another vegetable. "Zucchini?"

"Let's give it a try." Nick held open his jaws, and Natalie held up the squash
for a sample bite. Nick's face twisted with distaste, and, with a jerk of his
head, the zucchini-with-teeth-marks went flying across the room. "That's awful!
I'd rather suck the eggplant!"

"Oh, Nick! We're soooo close!" Natalie made a frenzied noise and rummaged
desperately among the produce.

"Make it something firm," Nick implored heatedly. "Hurry, Nat! Hurry!"

"This is all that's left!" Natalie held up an orange vegetable between their
faces, then began to buck and mewl as another orgasm overtook her.

Nick flexed his jaws and sunk his fans into it with a snarl. The vegetable was
a good six inches in diameter and fit the angle of his mouth like a bit. His
teeth experienced strong resistance. It was a carrot - crunchy and hard, not
soft and fleshy like the sheaths to which he was accustomed. The added friction
doubled the intensity of his climax. The carrot paled from orange to a golden
yellow as he came. Nick growled deep in his throat while his cock swelled and
pulsed, beating out fluid in wave after wave of ecstasy.

"Oh my god!" Natalie screamed. "I can feel it! I FEEL IT!!" A minute had passed
with them shivering in each others' arms, when Natalie asked in a calmer, more
reflective tone, "Was I supposed to feel it like that?" She pushed back
slightly and looked down. Blood-tinted sperm lined the juncture between them.
"Dammit, Nick! The condom broke!" She made a mental note for future reference
to always double-bag her vampire lover.

He shrugged boyishly. "Can I help it if I come with supernatural strength?"

Her response was cut off by the sound of Schanke's facetious voice. "Aren't
they just the cutest couple?"

Nick and Nat started, then looked over to where the fully-dressed Schankes
stood arm in arm, staring at them with smiles, one earnest, one a smirk.

Myra nudged her husband warningly. "Don! Don't embarrass them!"

"Embarrass then? They're embarrassing me!" he countered energetically, before
becoming serious and explaining, "Look, we got a call from the kid. We have to
go pick her up from the hospital."

Natalie immediately disengaged from Nick and began to scramble around the
kitchen for her fallen clothes. "Oh, no! What happened? Just let us get
dressed; we'll go with you!"

"We will?" Nick echoed dazedly. He'd have bet money that Nat was a snuggler.

"Oh, Jen's okay. She's perfect," Myra assured them. "Well, except for the
tongue piercing Donnie told her she could have. It's Jenny's friends who were
hurt, apparently."

"Hey! I said I was sorry!" Schanke protested.

"What's wrong with her friends?" Natalie asked as she picked her control top
stockings off the floor. She gave them one disgusted look, then dumped them in
the trash on top of the discarded veal.

"A bunch of them ate large amounts of Pop Rocks followed by carbonated soda.
The reaction between the carbon dioxide in the pop and the air bubbles in the
candy crystals damaged their digestion. One poor child's stomach even
exploded!" Myra became reflective. "Actually, it's a very good thing Jenny had
her tongue pierced. That was the only reason she wasn't eating junk food like
the rest of the children."

"See, Myra?" Schanke held his arms out at his sides to receive his well-earned
praise. "I did good!"

His wife hugged him, giving her husband a suggestive pat on the rear end. "You
always do good, Donnie."

Natalie fastened her bra and began to button her blouse. Realizing her clothing
felt odd, she frowned and looked down. The garments were wet and two buttons
were missing. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered how her clothes got that
way. "We'll still go with you. We just need a little time to get situated."

"We do?" Nick repeated.

"Yes, we do," Natalie told him sternly. "Little Tony needs medical attention."

Nick's expression clouded guiltily. "I can't believe I forgot about Little
Tony!"

Natalie gave him a supportive smile as she hitched up her skirt. "Well, you
were distracted."

"And Little Tony's Mamma," Nick continued. "We've got to do something about his
Mamma."

Vinny piped in then, walking among the group as he waved a meat fork. "You
leave-a Little Tony's Mamma to me. I'll put-a her in the freezer. We'll treat-a
her nice. It'll be in the family!" He looked at the concern on Nick's face and
laughed. "This-a one with the worry! Go onna! Go to the hospital! Have a good
time! You think-a nobody's ever died in this-a kitchen?" He held up one hand,
palm outward. "Ey! We're Italian!"

"Ey!" Schanke and the dishwashers shouted in agreement.

Vinny crouched down next to Little Tony's woozy form and poked at his neck
wounds with the meat fork. "Ah! Perfetti!" He handed the culinary tool to the
newly-dressed Natalie, saying, "You tell the ~medico~ that he slipped an' had a
little  ~incidente~ in the kitchen. Everything go smooth! No worry!" Vinny
kissed the tips of his fingers, beaming at both couples. "Amore - è bello!"

"É bello!" the dishwashers echoed.

Nick began to search for his own clothes. "Nat, you can use my jacket to cover
up. I left it at the table."

"Hmm," she whispered in his ear. "Maybe we had better also leave a really big
tip."

"Will you look at that?" Myra suddenly called in amazement. "Nick hasn't been
snipped! I've never seen such a thing!"

Schanke jealously covered his wife's eyes as his homicide partner hurried to
pull on his trousers. "Now I'm starting to think you've seen too much, hon!"

"~Now~ you think I've seen too much?!" Myra protested indignantly.

Schanke began to hustle his blindfolded bride out of the kitchen and into the
restaurant. "We'll be in the car, waiting," he announced.

As they pushed through the double doors, Nick and Nat could hear their fading
voices. "Yeah, Myra. I'd never seen an uncircumcised guy before, either. There
is no 'Blue Brotherhood,' at least not like your dirty-minded harpy of a mother
thinks. I was just getting a look at it for curiosity's sake when you came in
the kitchen. You know, it was all intellectual, honest . . . "

"Don't call my mother a harpy!"

Schanke's tone was placating. "Oh, yeah. Your mother's the greatest."

"That's much better."

"But she's still dirty-minded."

"Don!"

Schanke's voice was snuggly and warm. "And I'm so glad she passed that on to
you."

Myra's voice was mushy. "Oh, Donnie . . . "

Nick and Natalie exchanged amused snickers at the married couple's fading
exchange. Nick grinned as he buttoned up his shirt. "We should do this more
often," he commented.

Natalie smiled flirtatiously. "What? Eat dinner out?"

"That . . . " Nick said as he tucked in the hem of his shirt. " . . . and other
stuff. I'm finding modern mortal cuisine very educational. I learned tonight
that I like to eat raspberries and you . . ." He playfully nipped at Natalie,
then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "And carrots. I really like carrots."

"Nick, that's wonderful!" Natalie exclaimed, her thoughts whirling with
experimental plans. "You need the Vitamin A. You never seem to take the
supplement pills . . . "

"So how about a date?" Nick said as he stepped away from her. "Same time on
Friday . . . Chinese?"

Natalie watched as Nick hefted Little Tony's body over his shoulder, then
glanced down at the slightly bloodied meat fork in her hand, suddenly imagining
the peril of woks, chopsticks, and oyster powder. "No, I think we should eat
in. We should ~definitely~ eat in."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End

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