Lifers 12

Martins left the library just as it started to close and headed back home. The sky had darkened and the wind began to whip into powerful gusts. Another storm looked imminent. He hadn’t even thought about getting caught in the rain, he wandered what that would do to him.

He looked at his thumb where the water dripped over it, he expected it to have at least started to heal by now, but the groove was as deep as when he’d first had the accident. He came to the only logical conclusion he could. Because the high levels of potassium in his system caused such a violent reaction with the water, the cell damage would probably be irreversible and the resulting scar would undoubtedly remain.

He hurried through the streets heading for home, all the time looking over his shoulder at the blackening storm clouds. They seemed to be catching up to him, even chasing him. He had to get back indoors before the rain fell. He slipped into an alley to use as a short cut and was only a minute from home when he noticed black spots appearing on the ground.

Up ahead he saw a doorway, a deep recess, deep enough for him to shelter from the rain. He ran into it and pushed his back up against the wooden door inside. He felt safe now. Seconds later he heard heels clacking rapidly on the ground and getting closer, someone else had the same idea it seems.

A woman of about forty with blonde wavy hair and wearing a long black dress now stood next to him. ‘Wow,’ she said catching her breath. ‘It looks like we just made it in time there honey!’

Martins ignored the woman; he knew she was a prostitute. He’d seen her watching him as he'd passed her on the street, going in and coming from the library. He stood rigid as the rain began to bounce off the ground, and even though his level of anxiety was hitting maximum, he liked looking at it.

The woman moved right up to Martins and reached out with her left hand and began to rub at his groin. ‘What do ya say we have a little fun, kill some time maybe?’

‘Remove your hand woman,’ he said sternly.

But she didn’t, instead she carried on rubbing. ‘That ain’t what Willy wants.’ She smiled.

Martins had to agree; he’d become harder than he’d ever been before. He grunted low as she began to squeeze, and turning to face Martins she used both hands to unbutton his flies.

Kneeling before him she pushed her right hand inside his trousers and liberated his penis from within it’s constraints. ‘Hmm, you are a big boy,’ she said smiling up at him

Martins looked down as she licked her ruby lips and took him deep into her mouth; he moaned softly as her teeth grated over his tip again and again. Putting both hands at the side of her head he gripped her by the hair and the woman made muffled noises in complaint, but she kept on sucking him all the same. She soon became more forceful, and with each movement he became closer and closer to orgasm. He lifted her by the hair.

‘Hey,’ she cried out. ‘Not so fucking rough!’

Martins gripped her by the shoulders spinning her away from him, and pushing forcefully on the back of her head he bent her over. He lifted her dress and forcefully pushed himself deep into her. She cried in pain at his size and brutality but he didn’t care for her complaints. Martins pushed home harder and harder, and now with both hands gripping the back of the woman’s dress he pulled her back onto him with each forward thrust.

Grunting like an animal he soon burst inside the woman with an orgasm so powerful it felt almost painful to him. When he’d fully ejaculated he stood there breathless and sweating, and his throat was once again dry.

The woman was also breathless and took her time standing. Still panting from her own orgasms she turned back to face him whilst straightening her dress. ‘That’ll be two dollars honey.’ She said holding out a hand.

Martins’ breathing was deep and rapid, he smiled back at the woman and with his left hand he reached over gripping the hair on the left side of her head pulling it to her right. He could see the blue veins pulsating in her neck and thought he could hear the blood rushing through them. He knew it was exactly what he needed.

The woman reached up and struggled with his hand in a bid to free her hair. ‘What the fuck are ya—’
But before she could finish the sentence Martins bit down on the side of her neck and pulled away ripping it open.

He opened his mouth placing it over the gushing wound and began to suck at it passionately. The taste this time wasn’t sour. It was semi-sweet. He likened it to honey, but with a touch of salt.

When he’d had enough he felt incredible, he released the woman from his grip and she fell to the floor. Her eyes wide, her face ashen, and her heart still.

He ripped part of the woman’s dress off and wiped his hands and face as best he could. Then for a reason he couldn't understand he stood and watched the rain, but this time the urge to do so was so strong, he felt compelled to do it.

Luckily the downpour wasn’t a very long one and no one passed through the alley in the meantime. As soon as it stopped raining he seemed to wake from his trance and ran the last few hundred yards back to his house.

Once inside he had a lot of thinking to do, if he couldn’t change his current condition, and Martins felt he was beyond all hope of that, he would have to live somewhere that would accept him as he was. And as there wasn’t such a place, he decided he would have to create one.

Charleston was now no longer a place for him to stay. Among his Collective were builders, carpenters, and engineers, they could build their own little town away from everything and everyone else. Away from those who wouldn’t understand him and his soon to be infected followers.

After packing away everything to do with his experiments he waited for nightfall before he took Lucy’s body out into the back garden and buried her. The next morning he called for Ella Adams, Ella he now saw as his second in command, because ever since the night of that dance she’d been the most loyal. Plus, although it pained him to admit it, a chemistry had developed between them.

He instructed Ella to inform everyone he was leaving, but neglected to inform her truthfully why this was. All who wanted to stay with the Collective were welcome to do so, but they had to be ready to join him the following morning. Martins told her about a deal he’d made with a land owner in South Virginia, where he now owned six-hundred and forty acres of fine land. All paid for by the donations of the Collective.

They were moving south, they were going to start afresh in a new town, their town. And that town was to be called… “Martinsville”