~ Creature Feature ~

by William Meikle

"You know, if you did more with yourself, you could look like a film star" she 
said, looking up at me from under full, black eyelashes.
"Are you coming in?" she whispered in my ear and I felt my heartbeat step up 
a notch as she led me inside.
She'd picked me up in the pub, and that in itself was exciting enough for me 
to agree to take her home. 
I didn't know how kinky she was, but I was prepared to go along with most things
in search of stimulation.
I just wasn't prepared for how far she wanted to go.
The flat was like a shrine to horror movies. 
Bela Lugosi smiled at me as I hung my jacket up and Pinhead beckoned me on to 
forbidden pleasures as I was led to the living room.
She left to fetch a drink and I sat on the sofa, surrounded by the empty stares
of a galaxy of monsters, rank upon rank of them covering every available space 
on the wall.
Alien next to the Creature from the Black Lagoon.
Christopher Lee next to the Predator, and many more that I wasn't able to place.
"How do you like my little friends?" she asked as she returned.
"They keep me safe from harm. They like someone to remember them".
She dimmed the lights and joined me on the sofa. 
I moved closer to her, but she pre-empted my move and blocked my way with a full
wine glass.
"Not yet," she said, and my mind raced at the implied promise.
"Drink this and watch," she whispered, handing me the glass.
At first I didn't know what she meant, then I saw the remote control in her hand
and the television and video sprang into life.
It wasn't a professional production, but it gripped me more than any other film
I had ever watched.
She was the star, and a bedroom was her stage.
First comes the music. "Don't Fear the Reaper" drums its bass line through the 
room.
The camera moves slowly into focus, panning up the bed, taking in feet and legs 
before zooming out for a long shot.
A man lies strapped to a bed, his hands and feet chained to its corner posts. 
Fine beads of sweat can be seen at his brow and it is possible to see the straining
of his shoulder muscles as he tries to move, squirm away from something off camera.
He is naked and his erection glistens wetly in the bright light. 
He has a hunted look in his eyes, like a trapped and caged animal, and his head 
moves as she comes into view from left frame dressed in a skin-tight, translucent 
body stocking, painted with black tiger stripes and on each finger gleams a silver,
inch long talon.
Her hair stands loose and black around her head like a mane, obscuring her features, 
but even in the dim light she is recognisable.
My attention was dragged from the screen by a hand on my thigh.
I felt a doubling in my mind, caught between the screen and the reality, not knowing
which was the more exciting.
"Do you play games?" she breathed in my ear and her hand moved up my leg. 
I considered replying, but my blood was pounding hotly and the movement on the 
screen demanded my attention.
I'd never seen anything like it - hammer horrors had not prepared me for the depth,
the resonance, the sheer undeniable reality of the actions taking place on the screen.
The man is speaking, pleading, but his voice cannot be heard over the music.
She moves closer to the bed.
She flexes her fingers, showing the talons to him and you can see the terror as she 
brings her hand to his groin.
The talons grip his erection and small pinpricks of blood ooze into view as the camera 
zooms in for a close up.
It lingers there for a long second then pans up to his face as her hand begins to rhythmically
caress him.
He is brought to a climax and the pain and the pleasure are mingled in equal measure 
and then she stops, standing stock still. 
In close up her face shows only a blank, uninterested stare as she brings her head 
to his groin. 
A heavy guitar ruff kicks in on the soundtrack, just about loud enough to block out his
screaming as she starts to feed.
"I'm getting better," she said as the picture faded to black.
"It looked quite professional this time. 
Do you think the blood was realistic enough?"
I didn't speak for several seconds, covering my confusion by taking a long gulp 
of wine.
"You mean it wasn't real?" I managed to say when I'd recovered my composure.
She made a pretence of being shocked, but her eyes told a different story.
I could see the glee dancing there.
"Of course, he was a good actor - don't you think?" She was going on before I had
a chance to reply. 
"I got bored with some of the films being made, no I thought I'd make my own". 
Do you want to see my studio"? 
She put down her drink and began to stroke my thigh more insistently. 
She moved closer and nibbled my ear.
"We could have a lot of fun if you'd enter into the spirit of things". 
What do you say - do you play games?"
I should have said no, there and then - it might have saved some grief later,
but my hormones were taking over, the one-eyed trouser snake making my decisions
for me. 
I followed as she led me into the bedroom.
The walls were festooned with more pictures, but this time there was a difference,
they were all females. 
The Medusa, the Reptile from the old Hammer movie, several of Dracula's wives, 
a couple of Romero's undead, even the wicked witch from Snow White, all facing
into the room, all watching the bed.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was getting involved with a seriously 
disturbed person, but by now my mind was racing as I made a grab for her, intending
to tumble us both into bed.
She was too quick for me. 
She danced out of reach and I fell into the bed alone. 
I looked up to see the camera, its single cyclopean eye fixed into a mounting 
on the ceiling.
"It works by remote control," she said, handing me a small plastic unit. 
"Play with it if you like. I'll just go and get ready." She opened the doors 
of a huge walk-in wardrobe and closed them again behind her as she left the room.
I wondered whether I should take my clothes off, but I wasn't sure what she had
in mind.
I contented myself with playing with the camera, trying to ignore the blank 
stares from the walls around me.
I was beginning to get bored and was considering leaving when the music started,
a wailing guitar, low at first but always building and soon the room was pounding 
with its rhythm.
The lights dimmed and reddened until I could barely see, and then she made her 
appearance.
This time it wasn't the cat stripes - it was a snake, all shimmering green scales
and rippling muscle.
She had painted the area around her eyes jet black and in the dim light they looked 
like holes into her skull. 
Her hair had been tied back in a ponytail which bounced behind her as she moved 
towards the bed.
"How do you want me?" I said, trying to lighten the mood, but she didn't reply. 
She leaned forward and took the remote control from my hand and as she did so I
saw the twin fangs in her mouth. 
There was a pause in the music and I heard the camera whirr into action.
Then she was on me.
I tried to play my part but she was strong, and every time I tried to use my 
hands they were knocked away.
Her body squirmed against mine, making dry rasping noises against my clothes
and, even above the music, I could hear her loud hissing.
The feel of her body against mine was exciting me and I could feel the tightness
in my trousers where my erection throbbed hotly. 
It wasn't long before she discovered it.
Her movements had slowed, now languorous and undulating as her head made its slow 
journey down my torso. 
I felt her hands at my belt, then my zip and I let out a groan as the erection
was freed from its confinement. 
I lay back on the bed and saw the camera lens zoom in for a close up.
I felt her hands on me, then almost cried out as I was engulfed in the velvety 
warmth of her mouth and her tongue sought out my most sensitive areas.
The music kicked up another gear, the guitar screeching like a bat out of hell 
and I was getting close to orgasm, then closer still as her tongue began to move
faster.
Then she started to nibble, and that did it. 
I came, long and hard and I heard the camera zoom again, and just as the pleasure
reached its height, she bit down, hard, bringing white lancing pain.
I screamed and tried to kick her off but a lethargy was settling in and my struggles
became weaker, and weaker still.
She began to move faster, her teeth working at me in a frenzy as my actions slowed. 
She took my boredom for acquiescence and bit down harder, and that did it.
She'd been diverting for a while but enough is enough. 
I grabbed her head, tight, and began to pull her up the bed. 
She struggled, but I was stronger - I always am.
I let my fangs slip out at the last moment - just to let her see what true reality 
is all about, then I showed her what teeth are really for.
When I left, she was still on the bed and the cameras were still turning. 
I'm sure the police had a lot of fun trying to figure out what she was doing all 
alone on the bed when they watched the film. 
After all I can never be a movie star - I don't show up on film, but that doesn't 
stop me being a great actor.
Anyway I had to disagree with her. 
It wasn't so much that I looked like a film star. 
It was more than that. 
Film stars with their charisma, their larger than life personae and their exquisite 
taste in clothing: they all had something similar to what I have. 
But not enough.
No, I don't look like a film star. 
Film stars look like me.