He was beautiful. The way he moved on stage, his hips, his hair, the way his eyes concentrated on the words flowing from to the microphone to the crowd. She'd watched him on the television, heard him on the radio. His voice was so wonderful. With her heightened senses she could feel the timber of it rumbling through her every time a song came on. She knew months ago that she had to have him.
She was in the concert, now, watching him. Her bright, blue eyes were hidden behind wing tipped glasses, but it didn't matter, he would notice her. The crowd screamed loudly at the first notes of the next song, so deafening was it, she actually cringed from the pain. Her slender, pale hand pushed back the mane of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder as she was pushed closer to the stage. In her two hundred plus years on this plane she had never lost her cool, she wouldn't start now.
She wasn't human. Not even close. She appeared to be one, when she chose, beautiful and come-hither, but she was not what she looked like. She was a predator. Something ancient and evil, according to scriptures, and she fed on the life-force of men. She had had a few females, but the men were all so much better. She loved their essences, their strength, their taste. It fueled her. THEY fueled her. And their screams, when she finally showed them her true self were the dessert at the end of the meal. She wondered, idly, if he'd scream.
She stood among the crowd of females, generic compared to her. She was beautiful. Her long, black hair cascaded down to her hips, her breasts were large and her waist thin. The curve of her hips into her slender thighs usually drew eyes away from her perfect face with alabaster skin. She had a perfect smile hidden behind plump lips. At first glance no man or woman could tell her succubi true form lurking beneath the polished surface of her flawlessness.
The concert raged on, not a dull moment, every girl in the crowd becoming hoarse and sweaty from their screaming and jumping and pleading. Some stood with quivering lips, their make up smeared down their cheeks as they wept from joy at seeing him. She smiled coolly to herself, knowing she'd have him and they'd be left wanting. Despite her nefarious plot she let herself enjoy the music, the band behind him, the guitars. But it was his voice. Oh his voice awakened something deep inside her, a lust she'd not felt in years.
The night drew to a close and the crowd began shuffling out. She stayed calm and smoothed down her skirt, primped her hair, made sure the bright red lipstick on her thick lips was flawless. The she began her plan. She walked to the nearest security man and introduced herself. Her name didn't matter. They all fell under her spell. One after another they let her deeper and deeper backstage. Finally she reached the door she had dreamed of for months. She knocked.
The white door with the golden star upon swung open. He smiled at her. She tried to act shy, let her cheeks flush at the sight of him. His black hair in disarray and his lopsided smile made it easy. She looked up at him and smiled back coyly, giving her name. Her spell had already trapped him in her web. After looking her once over he introduced himself as she walked inside and the door closed behind her, "Well hello, miss. I'm Elvis Presley."
For Vixi
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