e.Vampire.com
e.Vampire.com
By
Scarlet Black
This novel is for mature audiences only and is not intended for young readers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© by Scarlet Black 2013
ISBN: 139781482046793
First Edition
: February, 2013
http://www.Scarletblack.webs.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Cover Artist: Lindsay Anne Kendall Graphics
Editors: Lawrence & Debra Savignano
Author’s notes and acknowledgements
As a writer I strive to continuously push my limits and go beyond my comfort zone. I definitely did that with this book. The research was quite intense and I learned a lot.
Although, I
have a degree in Psychology and attended an entire semester on “Sexual Deviance-Behaviors and Perspectives,” I felt I needed to see an actual dungeon and speak to those who engage in BDSM to bring the novel to life.
With that in mind, I wish to thank the following people for helping to accurately portray some of the scenes in the novel.
T.D
. - While I can’t disclose the name of the person who showed me the inside of a real ‘public dungeon,’ a room in an exclusive, member’s only BDSM sex club in Miami, Florida, where the novel takes place, I thank you for the experience.
I was apprehensive (okay terrified) about visiting such a place, but the gracious owner put me at ease, willingly answered all my questions and explained what the various items in the dungeon were and what they were used for. They also showed me the rules they use to ensure safety during BDSM sessions.
I recorded everything I saw and felt while in the club and strived to incorporate it into the scenes at e.Vampire.com’s club and some of the other erotic scenes as well.
L.E. Savignano
- An avid skydiver. Thank you for providing the procedures and terminology as well as describing in great detail what it feels like to jump out of a perfectly good plane. I accompanied the skydiver’s and pilot on the plane with a parachute on my back for safety reasons and watched the jump.
Prologue
Mission Statement for e.Vampire.com
To fulfill our member’s fantasies and give them the most exciting sexual experience they’ll ever have!
Rules and Code of Cond
uct pertaining to all vampires
.
# 1:
A Release of Liability form must be signed by mortals before engaging in any sexual activity in the dungeons. It’s the responsibility of the vampire to obtain these signatures.
# 2:
Agreed upon limits between Dominant and Submissive must be in writing. If a BDSM session goes beyond what is acceptable by e.Vampire.com, a dungeon monitor reserves the right to intervene and order the participants to cease all activities and leave the room.
# 3:
Never cause serious injury or death to any mortal on e.Vampire.com’s premises.
# 4:
Never let a mortal know your true nature.
Exception to Rule #
4
: Applies to vampire’s assistants only. Each must sign a Non-disclosure form. Failure to comply is an offense punishable by death.
# 5:
Do not create any new vampires.
# 6:
Never kill a mortal who has ties to family and/or friends.
# 7
:
It’s forbidden to fall in love with a mortal.
Signed:
Dorian Taylor
Dorian Taylor
CEO,
Taylor & Van Ness, Inc.
C
hapter 1
Jennifer Reese stumbled up the stairs on her uncomfortable high heels to the law office where she worked. “Shit, late again,” she mumbled to herself, rushing to her desk, hoping no one would notice her. Although, she’d be hard not to notice, she looked like hell. She had no make-up on and her normally severely pulled back blonde hair was done up in a messy bun.
After
yet another disastrous Saturday night date, she thought,
No more on-line dating for this girl. Maybe no more dating period. I’m totally done with men. They’re all selfish, creepy and even downright perverted bastards!
She wanted to meet a man who took her breath away when she first laid eyes on him and every time thereafter, to be swept off her feet like a heroine in a romance novel. Did that kind of love even exist or was she longing for something that wasn’t real? She honestly didn’t know. What she
did
know was she didn’t want to have meaningless sex with some guy while bound in chains. She’d found Jack Hawkins handsome, but he wasn’t the man for her.
The other paralegals she worked with watched silently as she opened her desk drawer quietly and put her handbag away
.
She knew it was only a matter of time before they wheeled their chairs over and huddled around her desk.
Of course, they’d have to wait until their boss; the meanest lawyer who ever walked the earth went out on an appointment.
And she knew what they were waiting to hear
. They wanted to hear about her latest date with a man from an online dating service.
Good God!
She thought,
Wait until I tell them about this guy.
Ah,
speak of the Devil. There was her boss now, Mr. Jacob Marshall, Esquire. The guy thought he was all that and a bag of chips. He was the worst boss she’d ever had. And he was headed toward her desk.
She smelled his cologne, noted his button down
Armani suit, bright red silk tie and highly polished black shoes. He dressed nicely and was well groomed. Other than that, he wasn’t much to look at. He was about six feet tall and very pale, with ruddy red cheeks and neatly cropped red hair. His beady blue eyes made her skin crawl. She wondered for the billionth time how the hell someone who lived in Miami, Florida could be as white as a freaking sheet.
“Reese
,” he bellowed, sauntering toward her.
He flung a file at her desk, not
bothering to pay attention to where it landed. Unfortunately, it fell at her feet and she had to pick up the scattered papers and put them back in the folder. She knew full well she was somewhat of a klutz and had a hard time putting the papers back. Not to mention, Mr. Marshall made her as nervous as a cornered mouse.
He looked around the dead silent room where the other paralegals had their backs turned to her, all clicking away at their computer keyboards. No one dared say a word. They were scared shitless of the guy. He had one mood— foul.
However, he did pay very well. That was probably the only reason he still had a staff.
Jennifer looked
up and caught him scrutinizing her, a lecherous gleam in his eyes. He was obviously undressing her with his eyes. Because she was in a seated position, her eyes automatically landed on his crotch. The bulge in his pants left nothing to the imagination.
My God, he has an erection!
Apparently, he enjoyed seeing her squirm.
She diverted her
eyes away from the ghastly sight. A malignant smirk played on his lips. He’d never attempted to touch her. Not yet anyway. If the man was as cruel a lover as he was a boss, heaven help any woman he slept with.
“Yes
Sir,” she answered.
“You did this intake, so you can
speak with this
person
.”
Looking down at the paperwork, she saw the prospect
’s name and cringed inside. She’d written her up as a possible client because she’d felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, the woman was a nut-job to say the least.
As if he
’d read her mind Mr. Marshall said, “This lady is a fucking fruit-cake. You know that right, Reese? Who the hell writes up a client like this? It’s ridiculous and now I have to waste my time dealing with her? No way.
My
time’s more valuable.
You
deal with it. Call her and decline the case. I don’t care how you do it. Just
do
it!” He stalked off and slammed his office door behind him.
She groaned, remember
ing that particular lady quite well. Her co-workers recalled it too. They’d chided her for being too nice and advised against writing it up. Still, Jennifer had taken her information: Rachel Marie Stover vs. McDonalds. Now, she felt like a moron for doing so.
Ms. Stover had gone to the local McDonalds
which was a few short blocks from the law office and bought a cup of coffee.
“Look at this coffee!” Ms. Stover had shouted, holding the small cup out to Jennifer. She took it in her hands, having no idea what she was supposed to see there.
“Well? Do you
see
that?” Ms. Stover said, as if it were plain as day.
“Um
. . . no Ma’am, what am I looking for?”
“There’s blood in my coffee
! You can see the red on the side of the cup!”
The other paralegals
joined Jennifer and they stared down into the cup. They looked at each other in amazement. There was red on the side of the cup alright. It was the bright colored imprint of Ronald McDonald’s
hair
!
Miami,
which she’d first thought exciting, was full of crazies, a city where the crime rate was damn near shocking and the solve rate downright dismal.
There
was South Beach, with its string of outside café style restaurants and the boutiques where the cost of a tank top was off the charts expensive. The entire place was pricey as hell. Still, that was the area she’d visited and fell in love with, the one that made her decide to move here.
