Burn Down The Night by Craig Kee Strete

for screwing. Kind of partied out, if you wanna know the truth. So maybe we just
better..." I start apologizing.
    Jesus! It'd be
like climbing into a coffin to make love to the worms.
    "I don't want
that."
    Suddenly she grabs
my hair and slams my head forward, bending me over. My face collides with her exposed
breast.
    Her arms wrap
around my back, her body arches tautly against me.
    "Bite it until it
bleeds!" she shrieks.
    I try to pull
free, but she's wrapped me up complete­ly and has the strength of a maniac.
    I got no choice. I
get her breast in my mouth and bite down. She clutches me convulsively, moaning, "Harder!
Harder!"
    Her hands push the
back of my head, drawing me tighter up against her.
    My mouth is full,
I bite harder, tasting blood, gagging a little.
    She screams in
ecstasy. I push against her stomach, trying to push free. She jerks convulsively, having an
orgasm.
    I get loose, shove
her off me. She staggers back, com­ing against the wall, shuddering with delight.
    I'm numb, shocked,
strung out like a cocained chicken.
    I look at her. Her breast is all
bloody and I can feel blood dribbling down the comers of my mouth. I wipe my mouth off, staring
at the stains on the back of my hand. I tell myself, well, here you are, having just another
party night in bitch goddess L.A. and it could be worse. So you turned cannibal, that's not the
worst thing in the world, is it? It took you a little sudden is all, before you had a proper
chance to really get into it. But don't be depressed, 'cause there's still a few perversions you
haven't tried yet. There's still dogs, ducks and donkeys. And grandmother rape.
    Okay, cannibalism
is no fun.
    I look at the
chick, slowly coming off the wall, strapped up in a hideous rapture, face contorted with
pleasure-pain, one breast looking like a sacrifice to a lawn mower. A dead woman a vampire
wouldn't have claimed, or maybe once did.
    Maybe I spoiled
the fun of being a cannibal by mixing in, considering the way she looks, too much
necrophilia.
    The hell with
her!
    I start marching
off. Green fingernails dig into my arm, spin me around.
    "Don't you want
your up?"
    "Uh,
well..."
    She releases me,
digs into a small fur purse dangling by a long cord from one shoulder, comes out with a white
envelope.
    "How many?" she
asks. "I got some good acid. Want some belladonna too? How about some M.D.A.?"
    "Just an up," I
say, wiping the blood on the back of my hand off on my shirt.
    She opens the
envelope, and I see inside. Must be fifty pills in there, all kinds, shapes, colors,
sizes.
    "How can you tell
them apart?"
    She digs her
fingers in and comes out with a fat white pill. "I got a good memory. I know what each pill
is."
    "An up." She holds
it out to me, two-fingered, blood on her arm. A fat white pill, rectangular, the giant economy
size.
    "You're really
bleeding. Maybe you ought..."
    She smiles. "I
know. I love it. It really hurt: I got off." She looks at me longingly, licking her
lips.
    "We could go into
the other room. I'd give you all the drugs I got if you'd whip..." Her teeth are black from her
lipstick.
    I back away, not
even taking the pill.
    "No!" Time to run.
This girl wants to have too much fun.
    She shrugs, seeing
she's lost a customer.
    "Okay. Here. Take
it." She pushes the pill at me. "A favor for a favor."
    I take the pill,
turning it over in my hand, looking at it suspiciously. "You sure this is an up? I never seen
this big an upper in my life. Looks like an elephant tranquilizer."
    "It's an up."
She's positive. "Hey, c'mon. You treated me nice. So swallow it."
    I put it in my
mouth, nasty taste, struggle to swal­low it dry, finally get it down. My mouth still full of
blood, salty taste.
    "Uh", thanks." I
nod at her.
    "See you around,"
she says, massaging the torn skin around her breast, shuddering deliciously from the pain it
causes. She's absorbed in what she's doing, hurting herself. I back away, getting the hell