Black and Red

Joanna Dark reached the ground of the cobbled London street. She landed feet first, gracefully, and expertly. Sliding out of her parachute, she rolled it up, and tossed it into a nearby bin. She straightened up in her black and blue jumpsuit, sliding her hands down the creases. She then took out her P9P, and advanced on her mission.

It was very dark at this time of year, but Joanna didn't bother putting on her night vision goggles. She didn't expect to be here long. It was just a case of finding, subduing, and extracting the target. Apparently this one operated alone, which normally signified that the enemy was immature, and cocky. Those were the easiest to combat, because they were wild. It was the ones that weren't wild that were unpredictable.

The female operative reached the corner of the building that was suspected to be the terrorist's hide-out. Unsurprisingly it was a run down office block, one that no-one would ever expect of hosting illicit dealings and shady masterminds with very little sense of humour and even less empathy for fellow man.

The door wasn't even locked. Here was a villain that was definitely sure of himself. It was probable he was just going to surrender as soon as he was caught. He'd want to know how it was the powers that be found out about his evil scheme though, to which the answer would be "because the powers that be aren't stupid."

The office block was completely deserted at first glance. There was no wallpaper on the walls, the previous occupiers deciding that every penny needed to be gained if they were not going to sell a property such as this. The floorboard were bare, no carpet to cover the cheap wood that gave people something to walk on.

Joanna walked forward, pointing her gun out at every angle, making sure that she wasn't being watched. Feeling more confident, she sauntered on, looking around every corner in search of her target.

There was a rusty door as she turned left after the next corridor. It epitomised rustiness. It was big, and it was metal, and it looked out of place in this decaying urban building. Joanna shrugged. Might as well go through it, she thought, I can't see the villain's hideout being anywhere else.

And so she went forward, and tried the door. Once again, it was unlocked. The room it led to was in complete contrast to what the door conjured up in the head. Instead of the drab, unforgiving interior she was expecting, it was a beautifully presented bedroom. With a big, four-poster bed, and scarlet red wallpaper. There was even comfy-looking cushions and teddy-bears.

Oh, Joanna thought, she was dealing with a woman. She approached the bed, and put her hand on the quilt. It had a very soft, very comfortable feel to it.

And then she heard something drop from the ceiling. Turning around quickly, gun at the ready, Dark saw the woman who apparently owned the bed. And she was blown away by what she looked like. A redhead, just like her, the newcomer was wearing more suggestive clothing. Or rather a lack of suggestive clothing. Just it was more suggestive than what Joanna was wearing.

It was a tight-fitting, cleavage-showing dress, and on the woman's feet were a pair of very expensive-looking high-heels. Joanna looked from these to her aggressor's face.

She was a very pale woman, but this added to her alluring nature. An almost forked tongue came out of her mouth, and it licked her lips hungrily. This showing revealed very sharp teeth. Almost, Joanna thought privately, like fangs.

'A visitor,' said the woman pleasantly, 'how nice. What is your name, visitor?'

The woman's voice was poetic. It was a voice that you just couldn't defy. Joanna gulped silently. 'Joanna,' she replied, 'Joanna Dark.'

'Nice name,' replied the woman. 'Do you know what I am, Joanna?' asked the dressed woman, stepping seductively closer.

'You're a terrorist,' said Joanna, defiantly.

The woman almost laughed. She put her head to one side, seemingly waiting for a smile back. When none came, with lightning fast speed she grabbed the back of Joanna's head, and pulled her down. 'You think I'm a terrorist?' asked the woman, her face just centimetres from the agent's. 'I'd say I was more of a horrorist,' she smirked, 'and do you know why?'

Joanna didn't reply, she was trying to claw the woman's hands off her head.

'It's because I'm a vampire. And do you know what my name is? My name is Rayne.' With Rayne's other hand, she snatched the gun away, and tossed it under the bed. 'And this is your lucky day,' she said, turning back to Joanna.

'Get off me!' said Joanna, pulling back. But the grip of the vampire was far too strong. In fact, she felt herself being lifted up, by the hair no doubt. And Rayne was doing this with one hand. With the other, she stroked the PVC cat-suit that accompanied Joanna on every mission. 'What the hell are you doing?'

Rayne looked at her square in the eyes. She decided not to respond, and instead took it upon herself to slowly, and tantalisingly unzip Joanna's garment. The zip reached the bottom of its course, and Rayne slid the thing off, and it slid to the ground in a lifeless heap. She then looked back up to the shaking form of Joanna, who was desperately trying to kick out of the hold she was in. Rayne took longing notice at the white sports bra that the agent was wearing. She then decided to drop the agent.

Joanna hit the ground hard, but she didn't have time to wince as Rayne was already down on all fours, covering her with her ample breasts. Straddling her, she bit into the bra, tearing it to shreds, and dropping it next to the operative's head.

'Stop it!' she pleaded through gritted teeth.

'Quiet,' said Rayne pleasantly. And Joanna had no other option than to agree. It was only right that she would obey the vampire. She was perfect, after all.

The vampiric beauty, still resting her legs between Joanna's sides, casually took off her own dress, before just as casually tossing it aside. She then brought her face closer to her captives, licking Joanna's face all over. The operative found it eerily pleasant. And then the tongue slid into Joanna's mouth, where it pushed down, and met Joanna's own tongue, which wrestled passionately with it. Joanna's eyes were staring right into Rayne's, feeling evermore reluctant to disobey this wonderful vixen.

Their breasts connected against each other, rubbing in a beautiful orchestra of love. Joanna's body was in joyful spasm, her eyes--when not fixed on Rayne's beautiful pupils--were rolling back.

And then Rayne apparently got bored, and jumped up to a standing position, pulling Joanna with her. The operative stumbled forward, into the arms of Rayne, who held her close. She looked down at the spy's panties, and with her free arm ripped them off. She then looked at something she had been focusing on all the time.

She looked at the neck of Joanna Dark.

Joanna only just realized what was happening as the vampire advanced down onto her neck, and even then it was too late. The fangs entered her throat, and Joanna felt herself being drained. This caused her to spasm even more; it was an incredibly sexy feeling, as your blood transferred from your body into a vampire's. She heard the slurping, and then she heard it stop, and then, opening her eyes weakly, she saw that Rayne was offering her a just very recently cut arm. She licked it gratefully, half-knowing what that was going to do to her.

The taste gave her a new lease of awareness, but she was still too weak to make any sudden movements. Instead, she was lowered onto the bed. Completely naked. Rayne climbed in after her, and drew the silky duvet over both them. She then climbed on top of her new "assistant", and began to move back and forwards on her sex, all the while kissing her lips, inserting her tongue into Joanna's mouth.

Joanna herself was drifting off to sleep. Her eyelids opened and closed a few times, but with hardly any energy to spare, the darkness of sleep over-took her.

It was going to be very interesting when she awoke.