Chanel

Photo by Kseniya Kopna on Pexels.com

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, “You are lucky you are so pretty.” Chanel smiled at him wanly, tittering mildly at this joke in agreement. She felt lucky to be so pretty. She actually thought pretty to be an understatement. She knew when she looked in the mirror that she was beautiful. Still, pretty was an okay start. The man who had introduced himself as Charles picked up his glass of bourbon on the rocks and swirled it a bit before taking a sip. As he did so, he slowly and deliberately walked his gaze from Chanel’s lovely, pouty, glistening lips down to her exposed collarbone, pausing at her voluptuous cleavage and lingering there momentarily. He then continued to take her in as she watched him, his gaze traveling down her ample hips and the curve of her exposed calf which was crossed prettily across the other leg and peeking through the slit in her sparkling gown, and pausing once more on her stilettoed feet, looking at them just as he had her bosom. He brazenly met her gaze with pure lust smoldering in his eyes, as if he had already undressed her physically instead of mentally. 

“I am going to enjoy you. Even if you aren’t that bright, the Good Lord blessed you with a body meant to be used for pleasure.” Chanel smiled at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of coquettish charm and a hint of lust in her own eyes. She was going to have an amazing night with this man, she just knew it. She sipped her drink and then leaned forward, whispering against his ear. “My place, or yours?” Having seen the tan line on Charles’ left ring finger, she knew he would say her place, but she thought it polite to ask. She didn’t want him to think she was judgemental as well as stupid, and maybe be turned off. She wanted the fun he offered her, even if it was only temporary. 

“Yours.” He growled in her ear, unsurprisingly. “Now.”

Excitement sped Chanel’s pulse as Charles downed his bourbon and paid the check. Her whole body began to tense at the thought of them going behind closed doors and all the pleasures that awaited there. He drove them to her place, a small, unremarkable house in a quiet neighborhood. It wasn’t much, but it was plenty for what they needed. Charles ground against her backside as she unlocked the door. They walked in and Chanel closed the door behind them while he buried his face in her neck, kissing and touching her everywhere. She clicked the lock into place and turned to face him. She grabbed his hair and jerked it hard, making him look her in the eyes. Chanel watched as he looked at her beautiful face, and his lust transformed. Replacing it was a look of first shock, then as Chanel smiled, displaying rows of razor sharp fangs where teeth had been only minutes ago, pure, unadulterated horror. 

She enjoyed Charles for hours, and he did scream, even after she told him the whole house was soundproofed. Poor, pathetic Charles didn’t make it past dawn. But he had been right about one thing. Chanel’s body was made for pleasure, just not the kind he expected. Or enjoyed. Or could survive. 

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