A Work of Art

       Celeste DeCumpania walked slowly up and down the lamp-lit rows of artists and their wares at the upstate New York fair, missing the renaissance with a passion.

     In front of her stood a big tin can with daisies painted on the side. The sign next to it said. "City Garden - Grealdine Kremmore, Artist"

     The vampyre's nose twitched in disgust. This is what Americans considered art?

     She suddenly smelt something wonderful, and turned to see a girl of around 20 dressed in designer overalls and a white silk shirt. She had spotted Celeste staring at her work and the vampyre could swear she saw dollar signs in the girl's eyes. Needless to say Celeste dressed well, so it was apparent that the girl thought she was looking at a possible patron.

     "I see you're are admiring one of my favorite pieces," she breathed standing next to Celeste. "It took me over four months to create it."

     Celeste assumed that this was supposed to be a big deal, although she couldn't help but think of a certain ceiling of a church... "That's quite impressive."

     The girl beamed. "Thank you."

     Celeste smiled at the girl; the artist's smell was intoxicating. "Do you have other work on display here?"

     "Just one other," Geraldine replied, pointing, "But for some reason they put it all the ways on the other side of the fair."

     "I would love to see it."    

    Celeste followed the girl past Kingston's art elite to a dilapidated swing set with the word W-A-R spray-painted on the three lone swing seats. This mess was called "The Littlest Victims"

    "Impressive," Celeste whispered, wondering what the art world was coming to.

     "The rest of my pieces are back at my loft," Geraldine said, accidentally brushing against Celeste for the third time. "If you can find a time in your schedule I'd love to show them to you."

    Celeste smiled slightly. This was going to be easier than she thought. She followed the girl to one of the many gorgeous Victorian houses in the area that was brutally changed into a dozen apartments. The girl lived in the attic apartment, which people now called a ‘loft’ and charged 2x as much. From the look of things, she lived alone.

    The room was cluttered with what Celeste could only describe as junk. Some of them had little price tags on them with amounts that should only be on fine jewelry and, to Celeste's horror, most were stamped PAID. Celeste's eyes narrowed. The girl needed to die before any more of this crap could be passed off as art.

    The ‘artist’ was mixing drinks at a tiny bar in the corner. "I hope rum tonics are ok," she said with a giggle, "I'm kinda out of everything else."

    Celeste's nose twitched in disgust. The girl's taste in alcohol was like her art - garish.

    The vampyre walked over to the window and looked out at the dark, crowded streets. She saw a figure she recognized but didn't call attention to herself. If the werecat knew what she was up to, he’d go snitch on her to her ‘babysitters’. She quickly closed the drapes and turned when the girl stepped up to her. She took the drink, not daring to put her lips near the almost-clean glass.

    "So, this is your studio, yes?"

    "And my apartment," she replied with what Celeste considered misplaced pride, "Artists don’t get paid as much as they used to."

    Celeste raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. Instead, she put the glass down on the scarred coffee table and walked over to the fireplace, staring at the picture above the mantle. "So," she finally said, "how much do you want from me?"

    "What?" the girl stammered, "I…"

    "Oh stop it child," Celeste said, turning. In her hand was a wad of hundreds. "The dollar signs in your eyes haven’t stopped dancing since you first saw me."

    Her eyes widened at the money. "I… uh…"

    "...have lost all capability to talk, apparently." Celeste walked around the room, fanning herself with the bills. "But the question is, what do I get in return?"

    "Well, one of my works should…"

    "Please!" Celeste snapped, leaning against the fireplace, "Don’t insult my good taste,” she replied. “Strip."

    "Wha…?"

    "Strip," the vampyre grinned wickedly, "For each piece of clothing you take off, you get one bill."

    Any reservations the girl had were quickly erased at the thought of cash, and so she began to undress. Celeste’s eyes smoldered as the girl finally stood there naked, her small perky breasts affected by the air conditioning.

    "Very nice," Celeste purred.

    "That’s $400," the girl stammered, "A hundred for each piece of clothing."

    "Of course," Celeste replied, walking over to her, "But we’re not finished yet."

    "We’re not?"

    "Oh no…" Celeste ran her palm across the girl’s hard nipples. "Next I am going to tell you things to do, and you are going to do them."

    "I am?"

    "And for each thing you do, a hundred dollars becomes yours… and, the better you do it, the more money you get…"

    The girl’s eyes widened. "But, I don’t know…"

    "Be quiet!" Celeste snapped, then smiled. "Very good. A hundred dollars for you."

    The girl nodded, realizing how easy making money can be.

    "Sit on the couch"

    Celeste straddled the girl, each hand cupping a small breast. She ran her tongue across the girl’s nipples, smiling as the girl moaned with pleasure. "Good girl…" she whispered in her ear, "A hundred more for you…"

    She ran her tongue down the girl’s neck, tasting her salty skin and feeling her tantalizing pulse against her tongue. She slid her hand down the girl's body and between her legs, feeling how nice and wet she was. The girl slid down, spreading her legs wide.

    "That’s it," Celeste purred, "That alone was worth three hundred…"

    The girl moaned with pleasure as Celeste’s fingers played with her clit. Her hands cautiously moved up Celeste’s shirt, and started playing with the vampyres waiting breasts.

    "Good girl," she coaxed, "I like it when my vic… my artists play with me…"

    The girl took this as a hint and began undressing Celeste, putting one large breast in her mouth. Celeste rolled her eyes and thanked the gods once more for tongue rings. The girl lifted up the vampyre’s skirt and, realizing Celeste’s aversion to underwear, began running her fingers between Celeste’s legs.

    Celeste put her hands on either side of the girl’s head and moaned, her hips thrusting in pleasure. The girl, mentally counting the cash she is making, slid off of the couch and ran her tongue across Celeste’s clit. The vampyre moaned softly, enjoying the girl’s touch and smelling the girl’s desire. She felt her fangs emerge, and Celeste’s decided playtime is over.

    "Lie on the floor."

    The girl complied, eyeing the wad of cash sitting on the coffee table. Celeste straddled her, then put her face between her legs. She felt the girl’s tongue once more on her clit and decided she was tired of the charade.

    She buried her fangs into the girl’s thigh, muffling the girl’s screams with her own thrusting hips. She felt the girl twitch and spasm, making her face between Celeste’s legs even more enjoyable.

    Just as the girl was about to take her last breath, Celeste stood up and began getting dressed, enjoying the girl’s desperate eyes on her. To add insult to injury, she picked up the wad of bills and put them back in her purse, leaving $400 dollars on the table.

    "You weren’t that good," she explained to the dying girl, "but you should at least have a nice flower arrangement at your funeral…"

    She looked once more at the picture above the mantle, then took it down, smiling at the dogs cheating at poker. "Now this," Celeste commented to the dead girl as she left the apartment, "is art."