Alan dressed quickly, not in his usual methodic manner, but merely splashed cold water over his face and pulled on his clothes.
"Something bloody strange is going on around here!"
Wandering out into the street he looked around for neighbours, anyone who could offer an explanation. The door caught in the wind, crashing shut behind him and immediately his hand slid across his pocket.
"Damn." The keys were still in the hand turned wooden bowl.
Walking around to the back he tried to remember if the bedroom window was open. An unusual sound made him spin around, like something scrambling over a wall, something large.
"Don't even think about it," he said, loudly for reassurance.

Fumbling along the fence he traced the outline of his gate, searching for the latch. The garden was pitch black, that in itself made him uneasy, but the window was open wide.
"Thank Heaven for small mercies."
Balancing the patio chair on the table he managed to reach the sill and hauled himself up, struggling, face scraping against the wall, into the room. There were fresh scratches on both brickwork and around the plastic coated frame.
Virtually slithering onto the floor, he hadn't had time to compose himself before he felt uneasy once more. As if he were not alone. Unfortunately the light switch was beside the door. Looking across the dark room he saw a pair of feet, naked feet.
"No, please, not her."
Casually the figure moved towards him, even from that angle she was impressive, firm thighs daring his stare higher to a body he, for some inexplicable reason, suddenly longed to explore. If he lived that long. Hands reached out for him, gripping him by the shoulders, lifting him until his feet became light on the floor. As her fingers locked into position, needle like nails cut into his flesh. Alan winced and despite being a virtual atheist, he prayed, fervently.
The woman sniffed his shoulders, as though she had already detected the blood and smiled. Obviously she had. One hand freed itself from Alan's jumper, gliding lightly over his body.
"Checking the merchandise?" Alan asked awkwardly.
A nail appeared right in front of his face, a long honed nail. At the very base was dried blood, along the underside brick dust, the edges were rough, but clearly very sharp. Alan didn't even attempt to struggle.
"Please let it be painless."
The hard tip scratched a path down his body, the sound of tearing fabric rang loud in Alan's ears and even as his clothes were wiped away he began to sweat. Maybe that was what she wanted, as her tongue immediately began licking the salt from his skin.
"If you kill me that supply dries up instantly," he offered.
Suddenly she gripped him firmly and threw him onto the bed.
"I'm glad you memorised the room," Alan said, almost casually, as though the delay in his death had given him confidence.
Once again her tongue was on him, thankfully it was wandering away from his throat. Cautiously he moved his hands, gently touching her flesh, as if to verify that she was indeed real.
Familiar, is it not?
To that there was no doubt, she was hot, even beneath his clammy hands. Fingers ran over her back, afraid to wander far. Then he felt the creature's breath begin to move across his torso, maybe seeking the sweetest flesh.
"Please don't bite?" As if mere words could placate her.
A tongue began to tease, or was it merely taste, neither action was exactly appeasing.
"No." Alan forced the thought aside. It wasn't difficult to picture his own skin, shredded strips of it, hanging from her mouth.
Somehow it felt unreal, after all she was as deadly as a lioness, yet she stalled, almost as though she were after something else.
An obtuse thought flashed through a troubled mind.
It was far too off beat, that ... The images failed to completely materialise, but just for a second he had imagined that it was in her fantasy he was trapped inside.
In the back of his mind two thoughts were however dominant, that the female preying mantis has sex before devouring her mate and that this vixen was just as capable of the same feat.
Things were so confusing, was she beauty, or the beast? Was he destined for paradise, or a swift journey through hell, to a land of eternal darkness?
"You are one irresistible woman," Alan admitted.
It smiled, this creature of the darkness, rising up to make a final choice perhaps, those moist lips parted exposing her most impressive weapons. Totally awesome.
It was going to be now.
"Oh Shit."
Despite his imminent death, Alan found himself captivated, looking up to that beautiful face he felt elated. Why? Firm hands pressed on his shoulders fingers massaging tense muscles. What was she doing? Softening the surface? Each motion she made became more... excited, for want of a better word and those incredibly keen nails dug deep into Alan's neck.
"Careful," he begged, all too aware of his vulnerability.
For the first time, sound seeped from her lips, a deep growl, was it passion, or something more sinister.
Suddenly she was all over him, kissing as though he were irresistible, teeth occasionally scraping skin, her mouth moulding over tight curves, her touch exceedingly delicate. It seemed that it was Alan's reverie after all.
It was bliss, such sensitivity from one he had assumed no more than a savage.
"Anyone would think you loved me, were capable of love," he whispered.
A soft lapping sound was her only reply. Cautiously he tried to lift her head, to look into her eyes, but she seemed shy, she wouldn't allow any movement. Alan brushed her hair away from his face and his palm passed over his lips.
A metallic taste welled up in his mouth, like rust.
Like blood.
Ripping her away, Alan saw that her mouth was dripping, dripping red. Those deep blue eyes were cold, without a trace of love.