Val the Vamp Ch. 03

Val the Vamp, Ch. 3

The Oracle of Delphi

My senior year in college saw some changes. I had exhausted all the courses offered on blood and related issues. I had aced biochemistry, calculus, and physics. For some reason I had trouble with statistics, but I still managed a B+ average in my stats classes.

In short, I was doing well in college, at least from an academic standpoint.

As for my love life, well, things were complicated. My love life had ground to a halt, but my sex life had not. Darrell and I had split, and he was pursuing, and seducing, other women for his pleasure. I didn't care, but I needed sex, because I needed blood. Experience had shown that I needed to bite a man in the shoulder, and during an orgasm, to boot. If I did that, I was good for a week to ten days.

Darrell and I would meet for secret liaisons, so that his girlfriend du jour would not know, and get jealous. Even though nobody was married, I was serving as Darrell's mistress. It worked well for me, because Darrell would drive me to an orgasm about 90% of the time, and I would feast on his blood, and he never minded, which still puzzled me. Also, his shoulder wound would heal completely (ie, without a trace!) within an hour.

I had tried out David and Steve, Darrell's two best buddies, and while David drove me to orgasms, no problem, my bites hurt him, and they didn't heal quickly. In addition, David's blood was not as tasty as I was used to, with Darrell.

Steve was a different story. Steve took his time. He ate me out to begin, and when he fucked me, he started out with a sweet fuck, but then it morphed into truly rough fucking. I thought of Lady Gaga and her famous line, "And baby when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun." Well, I'm no Lady Gaga, but I'll be damned: Steve drove me to the biggest orgasm of my life. I bit him hard during the orgasm, he screamed, and I sucked out a ton of his blood. He needed stiches to heal. Not good.

I took him to the hospital's ER, and the admitting doctor asked him what had happened, and Steve just pointed at me. Steve had these two huge gashes in his shoulder, and I truthfully said, "I bit him during an orgasm."

The doctor laughed at me, and said, "Tell me the truth."

"A decorative heavy paperweight, with sharp, pointy corners, fell on poor Steve. We were, uh, engaged in an activity, you might say, on the floor, and not paying attention to other things," I said, making up a story, since the truth hadn't worked.

"Lead crystal, metal, or porcelain? What was the paperweight made of?" the admitting doctor asked.

I shrugged.

Steve never tried again to have sex with me. Neither did David. I only had Darrell, only when his girlfriend du jour wasn't looking. I needed a change.

**

Delphi, Indiana, is a tiny town of around 3,000 souls, about 20 minutes by car, northeast of Lafayette. Nobody associated with Purdue lived in Delphi. It was as if it was a world apart from Lafayette, with all of its professors, doctors, dentists, lawyers, and students. Delphi, in contrast, was the real, backwoods America. For some reason, I fit in there.

As I aged, my ability to read the minds of other people around me, improved. For two or three days after I had drunk some fresh blood, almost always from Darrell, my mind reading ability became extraordinary. You'd think it would be a blessing, but if you're me, doing some banal thing like going to a market for food supplies, you can "overhear" what's going on in the minds of other shoppers and employees of the market. It's not pretty.

The number of men who fantasized seeing me naked, for example, surprised me. Of course, I could use my mind reading ability to advantage, but I never did that, except ...

Well, since I was in Delphi, I hung a sign over the door of my small, cedar clapboard house. Yes, in Delphi I could afford to rent an entire house, just for myself. The sign announced, in carefully printed block letters, "ORACLE." Below the word ORACLE, and in smaller letters, "Call for an appointment." I added the phone number of my landline.

I decided to call myself Pythia, and soon everyone I knew in Delphi knew me as Pythia. People had become accustomed to strange, unusual names, as it was the fashion, so nobody paid any mind to my exotic name.

No, I didn't use a QR code. This was Delphi, remember?

A week later I had my first call. It was a woman. She had a problem and wanted me to help her to solve it. I rooted around in her mind while she sat there in front of me and my crystal ball, and I found an unused memory which allowed me to forecast how her problem would end.

She called a few days later and thanked me, since everything I had forecast, came true.

Word spread. Word about me and my talents spread like wildfire. I was getting booked for almost every day. I decided I should charge for my time. Not too much, so as not to exploit these good people, but enough so that they'd take me seriously. I felt bad, since they could barely afford my fee. These were poor, but proud people.

I told them I could not predict lottery numbers, which made most of the visits about sex. Was my husband cheating? That was the most common question. Second place was: Is my husband cheating with Dorothy Elston? After the third woman asked me that question, I figured I had to meet this woman named Dorothy!

It was some nice comic relief one time when a woman came to me in distress. She could not, for the life of her, find her reading glasses. It was child's play to enter her mind and find the last place she put then down. They were well hidden, on a bookshelf, squeezed on top of a box the same color as the glasses. When I told her, she was so excited she returned the next day wearing them, and kissed me! I had refused payment for such a trivial matter.

Some women like fat men. Some women like skinny men, or muscular men, or dominant men, or smart men, or prosperous men. Some women like other women. Some women enjoy both men and women. Dorothy, as it turned out, had a taste in men that ran to married men. Dorothy was young and pretty. She dressed like her peer group; it was how she acted, what she said, the double entendres, the way she licked her upper lip as she spoke, it even included how she held her coffee cup and how she sipped from it. It was in her eyes. Her sexual lust, her desire, was easily communicated to the married men, without ever being spoken.

I realized that the women's fears about their husbands were, in the large, true. Some husbands are loyal and strong, while others are weak, and if a young woman comes onto them often enough, well, what are they going to do? You never know, everyone is different, but some of them, yes some of them, well, it's human nature, after all.

I saw it all, in their eyes, and in the unspoken thoughts in their heads. I amazed them by telling them yes, their husband had cheated with Dorothy, and where and when he had done it. It was, after all, in their heads. They had the knowledge their brain refused to see. It was too awful to see; and yet, they came to me. I helped them to see what they already knew. I got paid to do it.

I decided it was time to meet Dorothy.

Before I could meet Dorothy, however, I received a shocking surprise. Really, I almost fainted. Despite my low profile and near obscurity, a man showed up at my door one day. He was tall, handsome, and the one true love of my life. He had taken my virginity back in high school, and I still loved the man with all my heart.

"Jason!" I screamed.

"Hello, my little Vamp. How have you been?" Jason had not changed.

"How'd you find me?" I asked.

"It wasn't easy; you've hidden your very existence quite well. Should I call you Pythia, my love? Anyway, I went to Purdue and asked around, until I finally met a guy named Darrell Owens. He's addicted to you, you know. I must say, I'm a bit jealous."

"It took long enough to get Darrell to spill the beans in how to find you. Eventually he told me you live in Delphi, and earned money as a fortune teller. Once in Delphi, it was easy. Everyone knows you, or knows of you. All the men want to jump your bones, and all the women are in awe of you," Jason Jones said.

"That sounds about right," I replied. I couldn't stop smiling. "How's life at Cal Tech?" Of course, I knew all about Jason at Cal Tech, thanks to Facebook. But what people put out in public might be different than where they're actually at. I wanted full disclosure.

I couldn't read Jason's mind. True, it had been some time since I had drunk some fresh blood, but still, I could read everyone else's mind. I wondered about that, but no matter, I was so excited to see Jason again, that I couldn't be bothered with little details, like mind reading.

Jason told me his tales of woe. He had always been looking for a woman like me, and he found some mighty fine women, kind, sweet, good looking, and good in bed, but none of them were like me. I knew what he meant: I knew that when I bit him, his sexual drive went into overdrive. His cock enlarged and his stamina was over the top. We both almost blew our minds with the intensity of our orgasms. Nothing like that happened with any of my other lovers, Greg, Suresh, Darrell, David and Steve; none of them compared to Jason. Jason Jones had become a legend in my mind, and here he was -- in the flesh -- on my doorstep.

"Are you going to invite me inside?" Jason asked. "Or is there a man somewhere, hiding in your home?"

"Come in, Jason! Come in, please. Can I get you a drink? I still have DoubleWood Scotch whisky," I said, not hiding my excitement to have Jason Jones himself in my home. Jason took the Scotch, and I made myself a cup of tea. I had a Japanese Zojirushi hot water dispenser, so making tea was very quick.

"So ...what's up? Why are you here, in Delphi, of all places?" I began.

"Because you're here. Right back at you: Why are you here, in Delphi?" Jason launched right back. I suppressed a giggle. I did a bad job of it, too.

"Really? You came all the way to mid-north-central Indiana, from sunny Southern California, just to look for me?" I asked.

"I had another reason. I'm considering Purdue for graduate school," he said.

"Really?" I was a bit too transparent with my excitement.

"Yes, really. I was hoping you could give me the 411; although I'm a bit concerned that you chose to live in this strange place," he said.

"You can use the word hellhole, Jason," I said, suddenly realizing I could see, just a little, into his mind.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"I know you, Jason. You have predictable speech patterns," I said, not admitting yet I could read his mind.

"Have you forgiven me yet for letting the guys in high school see the pictures of you?" Jason asked nervously. "Stupidest thing I ever did. It cost me the love of the most special woman I've ever known. I've tried to replace you, you know, ---"

"Oh, I know," I said, feeling smug.

"You always seem to know things, things you have no right to know, and I --"

"I'm an oracle, Jason. Didn't you see the sign on my threshold?" I said.

"No, I must have missed it. An oracle, you say? Oh, I get it! You're the Oracle of Delphi!" Jason blurted.

"Pretty cool, right?" I said.

"That explains why you call yourself Pythia. I took Greek mythology at Cal Tech. Do you bathe naked in a spring before a session of oraculating?" Jason asked.

"There's no spring here, but I go down the ravine to Deer Creek and perform the ritual there," I said.

"Seriously? Are you naked when you do it?" Jason asked. He seemed incredulous, and also aroused at the thought.

"Yes, of course. All the Pythias were naked when they bathed before their oracular pronouncements," I said. "I do it at dawn, and nobody is around to see me." Seeing his face, and his drool, I added, "Calm down, Jason."

"You sure?" Jason asked.

"Look, the only person awake and alert at that hour, especially in the summer, is Old Man Smithers, and he's completely harmless. Sometimes I run into him fishing in the creek, in fact, and we stand around and talk a bit," I said.

"With you naked?" Jason asked.

"Yes, of course. Look, it's no big thing," I said.

"Uh-huh," he said. His face, and his tone of voice, revealed his sarcasm in just those two sounds. "What do you talk about?"

"Oh, this and that. Local politics, like the school board's Covid policies, you know," I replied.

"He hasn't hit on you?" Jason asked.

"Not yet, but he's planning to, and right soon," I replied.

"How do you know?" Jason asked.

"I'm an oracle, remember? And I'm a damn horny oracle, too, if I may say so," I said. I could tell Jason was mentally drooling over my body, and his (hopefully) wonderful memories of it, but he was too shy to say or do anything. I really needed some blood. It had been a while since Darrell had enjoyed my company, and Jason's blood was the best! It had a kind of Nutella aftertaste that was delightful. Plus, I still loved the guy.

I had found that I had come to depend on drinking blood, just for my health. I hadn't had blood in quite a while, and not only were my oracular powers suffering, but I was losing weight, too. Not in my boobs, thank goodness, but the adorable love handles at my hips had disappeared, and my tummy had become pancake flat! My thighs were now thin, and my bubble butt was at imminent risk of deflating! I was in danger of getting the body of a movie star, or a model. Not the face, just the body.

So, the conclusion was obvious. I needed to seduce my old high school lover, Jason Jones. In a perfect world, I'd get him to fall back in love with me, giving me loving companionship, great sex, and fresh, delicious blood. This was an opportunity the gods, in their wisdom, had -- literally -- dropped at my doorstep. Don't blow it, Valerie! I told myself.

"What do you want to know about Purdue?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, why have you moved out of West Lafayette to this obscure, small town, changed your name, and told nobody, other than Darrell Owens?" Jason asked.

"I told Darrell, because if he can't find me, we can't have sex, and I'd be starved of blood," I said.

"There are men besides Darrell, you know. There must be over a thousand men living right here, in Delphi," Jason remarked. He was teasing me.

"Look around a little. Some are geriatric, others are teens, and the rest are married, with beer bellies," I said.

"Well, they all have two things in common," Jason observed.

"I'll bite: What?"

"They all have cocks and want to fuck you, and they all have lots of blood flowing through their veins," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You forget: Some of them are gay," I replied.

"Gay men have blood, too, you know," he said.

"Gay men probably don't want to fuck me, Jason," I replied.

"You mean every man in town who isn't gay wants to fuck you?" he asked.

"That's been my experience. Also, every guy at Purdue, where we're talking over 15,000 men between the ages of 18 and 27, counting the graduate students," I said.

"So that's why you moved out here? You got tired of saying thanks, but no thanks?" he asked.

"Well, it is wearing on a girl," I said.

"If I may ask, how often did guys hit on you?" he said.

"Pretty much every day, every time I showed my face. That wasn't why I left; I could handle that. It was the stalking that freaked me out," I said.

"Val -- I mean, Pythia -- were you raped?" Jason timidly asked me. I guess he could tell there was something, in my voice, in my eyes, and in my nervous fidgeting.

"I don't talk about it," I said, even as my mind went back to the event. He had followed me home, and he forced his way into my dorm room as I opened the door. He had a huge knife and told me not to make a sound. I let him quietly fuck me, and I was so disgusted by the whole thing, I didn't bite him; I couldn't bear to taste his blood. Besides, he might have killed me. Afterwards, he told me I was a lousy fuck, and he left. Only then, did I cry. I broke down.

"The stalking and the rape is why you are out here, and why you have dyed your beautiful blonde hair green?" Jason asked.

"Yes," I said, trying to suppress the tears. I had told nobody about the rape, except the sweet woman at the rape crisis center. She was well meaning, but ultimately, except for a sympathetic ear, she was of no help at all.

Jason took my hand, and we sat together on the couch, neither of us saying anything.

"Can I take you to dinner, my little Vampie?" Jason asked.

"Please, Jason: Call me Pythia," I said.

"Is that a yes for dinner?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "This is a yes," and I gave him a kiss I hoped he would never forget. He misread it and began to undress me.

"No, Jason, not now," I said, moving his hands away from my clothes. "If you want to see me naked, come at dawn and watch me bathe in Deer Creek."

"We're still on for dinner, though?" Jason asked.

"Yes. I know a farmer's bar not too far from here, in Brookston, that serves great steaks on Friday and Saturday nights," I said.

"Today is Thursday," Jason pointed out.

"Mexican, then?" I asked.

"Pick you up at 6?"

"Make it 5:30, okay? I go to bed early. Don't forget I rise at dawn to bathe naked in the creek," I said.

I was already salivating at the thought of drinking some of Jason's deliciously wonderful blood!