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it. I’d have a night in with my fingers and my imagination.
    When the bath was ready, I fetched myself a glass of wine,
took off my work suit and sank into the warm water. I’ve never been one for
bubbles, but I’d poured a generous measure of patchouli oil into the water and
the scent filled my nose as I slid down under the water line. A sigh escaped me
and I put the working week firmly in the past. If only I had a lover to massage
my shoulders.
    I took a drink of cabernet and put the glass down at the end
of the bath. There was no lover, but I could pretend. He’d strip out of his
dark clothes, showing me every inch of his deathly pale body. Then he’d kneel
behind me at the head of the bath and lay his hands on either side of my neck.
I leaned my head to the side as I pictured him rubbing the tension out of me
with his strong, elegant fingers. When he’d kneaded my flesh into submission,
he’d rise and step into my bath. I raised my hand to my breast, stroking my wet
skin the way that he would. With my other hand, I parted the lips of my cunt
and imagined that it was his finger probing gently inside me.
    My breath came faster and I told myself it was his sighs I
was hearing. It was his finger and thumb that took hold of my clit – not mine.
My pussy felt swollen and desperate for more. My hands would have to be enough.
    A draft blew through the bathroom and the flickering candlelight
brought me back to myself. I took my hand from between my legs. Nights spent
alone stretch out beyond all laws of physics. I didn’t want to climax too soon
and spend the rest of the evening praying for sleep that wouldn’t come.
    I finished my bath, continuing the game by pretending that
my vampire lover was wielding the sponge that washed me clean. In the end, it
was the drop in temperature that forced me out of the water. I wrapped myself
in a towel and went to the bedroom, turning up the thermostat on the way. There
was a chill in the air that lifted the hairs on my arms. It hadn’t been
remotely cold before my bath.
    Sitting at the dressing table, I brushed out my hair as I
waited for the temperature to rise. I watched myself in the mirror and tried to
appraise my looks the way a man would. I was one of the few women at work to
wear her hair long. Maybe they thought it would be seen as a sign of weakness.
I didn’t care. I was good at my job and I liked the way my pale brown hair
looked when I shook it loose and let it fall down my back. Both of my real
lovers had commented on it. One of them had even wrapped his fist in it to pull
my head back when we made love. That was something I had filed away in my
fantasy collection. It was definitely the sort of thing my vamp would do to me.
    With all the knots teased out of my hair, I leaned forward
and examined my face in the mirror. I didn’t look bad for my age. Full lips
that still held on to some of the lipstick I’d put on that morning. Good
cheekbones. Pretty brown eyes, or so I’d been told. Unhitching my towel, I
stood up to cast an eye over my body. Pleasantly curvy was what sprang to mind.
I wasn’t one of those women who fretted about being bigger than the stick girls
on the front of magazines. I was average – not overweight, not particularly
athletic. Soft and round and inviting. I passed the fuckability test. It wasn’t as if I didn’t get any offers.
But none of them were from men who could leave me with two little puncture
wounds on the side of my neck.
    Oh well. I could dream. My thoughts returned to my fantasy
vamp and my clit began to tingle. It was warmer again. I didn’t need to worry
about getting under the covers. I watched myself run my hands over my body,
lingering on my hardening nipples and getting ever closer to my aching pussy.
As I slid my fingers over the hair between my legs I caught sight of movement
at the window.
    I snatched up the towel that I’d dropped and drew it around
my nakedness, my heart pounding in my throat. Was there someone out