Little Red

I hunt.

Branches whip across my face as I push through the trees. The woods are cooling fast. Dew clings to the leaves and grass. Turning everything darker. Heavier. My boots sink slightly into the soft ground. I pause. Just for a second. Listening. The sky above turns the color of an angry bruise. I imagine her thighs becoming the same color.

Sister Moon is already out, watching me. Smiling down.

If I had paws. If I were down on all fours like some animal. I might howl.

I breathe in. Dirt. Pine. And a faint, sweet-musk smell. A hint of perfume and fear. Warm skin. I draw it into my lungs. Letting it hold there. She's close enough to smell. Lacey things.​

Focus.

It's hard keeping my mind on just the hunt. Hard not to imagine. All the things I want to do. All those desires. Those needs. Needs. I don't just want her. I need her. Need to consume her. Feel her. Everything.​

Clothes ripping. Body twisting under mine. Heat. Bare skin. Her nails raking across me. Her cries filling the night with such sweet music. Need. Later. Hunt first.

A snap. Rustle of branches. Soft breaths. Not running. Careful steps. She's trying so hard to be quiet. Trying to think her way through this. Being human when animal is what's needed. Modern woman. She tries to move quietly. She's no good at it. Bet she's good at screaming. It makes me twitch, just thinking about it. Leaves crackle ahead. Just ahead. Her caution dooms her as I follow.

Soft-soled shoes. Whisper quiet in the woods. Closing on her. The perfume, a hook in my skin. Drawing me to her. I stop. Quiet. She heard something. Faint breathing ahead in the pitch. So close.

The ground slopes here. She has to be cautious. A wrong step will send her sliding. Thrashing. Gravity kills.​

We wait. Who will break first? I have experience. Patience. She is young. Frightened. Knows what happens when she gets caught. Knows she will be devoured. Taken without mercy. If I were canine, there'd be Pavlovian drool running down my chin. I twitch again in anticipation. I will have her.

There's a stream below. It will make hearing her more difficult. And slow us both down. She probably doesn't even know it. A break to the left is her only hope of escape. A gravel trail. Then a short run. To streets. And houses. Escape. Can't let that happen.

I move. Confident. Steady. Quiet. I know how to use the dark. The woods, the dark, home to me. Cutting to the left I move forward. Calmly. Step by step. By the time she notices, escape will be cut off. Wolves, when they've tired out their prey, will nip at it, chasing it for miles right to their den.

The wind shifts.

Fast, short breaths. Quick. Uneven. A chorus of them. All from her. Fear. Fear makes people sloppy. They forget themselves. Fail to notice the small things.

I picture her bare thighs. Pale. Milky. A perfect canvas for bruises. How beautifully they'll mark. My fingers printed on her. Maybe teeth. I shake the thought away. Focus. Too early to feast. Now is hunt.​

Darkness cloaks her. And me. Another sound. Further. She changed directions. Went right. She's moving blind. But closer. Doubling back? Lost? My teeth bare in a feral smile. Mistakes. Hers.

Forward now, turning into her. Quick step. Feeling the ground as I go. Dark looming shapes around me. Trees. Brush. Light vanishing, almost gone. Sky full of black now. The woods at night belong to those that don't need to see.​

In my chest now. With every breath. Low steady pull. Nervous tension. A spring waiting to release. A part of me coiled since she looked at me across that table. Doe eyes. A bunny. Nervous little bird hands. She's here because of that. That helpless little look.

She stepped out of the car. She ran.

And I'm going to catch her.

I stop again, listening. Another branch snaps. Just ahead. She's moving. Faster now. She heard me. Or her nerves broke. Don't matter. She's running. Panicked. Thrashing through the dark. I follow. Letting her hear me. Chasing her deeper. To places few ever go. Doubly so at night.

She gasps, turns round stumbling. She knows she can't outrun what's right behind her. Me.

I bare my teeth again. Feral smile. Fangs.

She's mine to take.

It started at a cafe. An ordinary, run-of-the-mill eatery. This one had a separate dining room. A place where groups could reserve for meetups. When I discovered there was a Primal/Prey meetup on FetsBook I signed up. A few other people had committed, and another dozen maybe'd. I wasn't sure what to expect.​

Disappointment was what I encountered. With the exception of her. There were just shy of a dozen attendees. Most young. Under thirty. I was easily the oldest, most experienced. Easily twice the age of the youngest, who were sitting chatting in pre-meeting cliques.

She sat alone. Timid. Eyes darting, and a nervous smile. The first stirrings of hunger announced themselves. She was the kind of pretty that she couldn't see in herself. And she was definitely overwhelmed when others approached her. She was polite, but looked like she wanted to crawl under the collection of tables set in a line in the center of the room.

Too young. Mid twenties, maybe. I preferred my own age. Nearly twice that. The other youngsters were pressing her hard, greeting her, and bombarding her with questions. When she glanced across the table to me, it looked as if she were ready to flee. I gave the kid a warm smile, and her eyes darted away. I'd like to think the flush was mine, but she was struggling with the attention from others.

The meetup started when the second-oldest person, a portly guy in biking leathers and a ponytail, called things to order. He introduced himself and asked us to consider ordering something to help support the establishment hosting us.

He then talked about what it meant to be primal and prey.

I, of course, have my own ideas. It's all about passion. Being consumed with it. Letting it overwhelm the senses. Basking in it like being swallowed by a tub tub. I wanted to be driven to erotic heights. So smitten with someone that I lost control. Was unable to continue being civilized and just let the passion explode out in a heat, desire, and need.

The organizer's definition was different, involving spirit animals, something called yiffing, and other bdsm tropes I'd never been particularly interested in. To each their own. I'd always orbited kink, but bdsm had turned me off. Too ritualized. Too rigid. I wanted messy, passionate, out of control.

He asked everyone to talk about what their spirit animal was and why, going around the table. People started explaining how they felt kinship with wolves, or deer, a narwhale, too, I think. When it got to her, there was a kind of shrinking nervous energy. It seemed like she didn't want to answer the question, but was compelled to because everyone else was. Her voice was so quiet that I couldn't hear what she said, but it didn't matter. She answered robotically, looking down at the table rather than the others, typical of people answering a question they have no interest in or don't believe.

When it got around to me, I was a little irritated. What animal? None. That had nothing to do with my vision of feral prey play.

"What animal? A human being."

The organizer snorted. "That's not an animal..."

​I cut him off, "Yes, it is. The most dangerous fucking apex predator on the planet."

There were confused looks and some smirking around the table.

I decided to continue, "I want to be teased. Driven. Enticed to the point where I lose control and have to have her. I want passion to boil over, to explode. Something that makes me ditch the veneer of civility and become a caveman. No other thought in my head than how much I have to have her. And to chase, capture, tear clothing away, and ravish her until we're both exhausted and panting."​

Some of the looks changed. On a few, the confusion seemed to melt into anger.

Except her. She looked at me like she was trying to find some deeper truth in what I'd said. She was college age, maybe they still taught critical thinking these days? There was a sort of hunger in her eyes, and I knew that was exactly what she'd wanted. Even if she weren't able to put it into words.

"Well," the organizer said, "We'll have to make sure to mention more clearly in the future that noncon is not a part of primal..."

I like to think my glare shut his mouth. Whatever. The next person answered as the rest of the table sort of exchanged odd looks. It wasn't the first time I'd said something socially awkward. Just like the pomp in the BDSM community, this would be another waste of time.

I expected to be thrown out, but continued listening half-heartedly. I didn't want to leave and make anyone else feel judged. It was hard enough going to kink events publicly. Feeling shamed would make these communities feel more isolated. So I listened to the rest of the conversation, but didn't really add anything except a few nods.

When it ended, groups of people continued chatting at the table and around the table. I got up and made my way to leave. And there she was... Trying to make her way to the door while one of the kids her age was pressing her with questions. She looked like she wanted to bolt, but didn't want to be rude or hurt anyone's feelings.

I approached, and the kid talking to her shot me an annoyed look.

"You look like you could use a drink," I told her without acknowledging the horny boy at all. "Wanna grab a coffee next door?"

I could see her considering it and rushed to an answer as if leaping into a pool of icy water, "Sure, yes."

The kid tried to say something that the meetup was a safe space. I let him explain it to my shoulder as I placed a hand on her back and guided her to the exit. At the touch, she went rigid, but then melted into my firm touch.

We dropped into a quiet pub down the street instead. We grabbed one the many empty booths. A couple of barflies, a few old timers, that was all that was in that day. She kept adjusting her sleeves. Pulling them over her hands like she was trying to hide inside them. I sipped at my pint and watched her. She never complained that we skipped the coffee.

"I'm Shane."

"Umm, Allie."

"Pretty name," I told her.

She blushed and looked nervous. Compliments were not her thing.

"So," I asked. "Was that your first time?

She blinked and nodded, becoming interested in her coffee, taking a long, slow sip like she was trying to calm her nerves.

"Are you really into this, or just there out of curiosity?"

"I... I think I am," she said quietly. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Reading. Watching stuff. But the meetup felt... weird."

​I almost smiled. At least she was honest.

​"Yeah," I agreed. "It was weird."

​She glanced up at me, then back down at her cup.

​"I liked what you said, though... About being human. The most dangerous predator. Everyone else was talking about wolves and deer and whatever. It felt like they were playing dress-up."

​She was younger than I usually went for. New. I normally stayed away from that. But something about the way she looked at me made it harder to keep that line drawn.

​"You ever done anything like this before?"

​She shook her head, "No. Not really. I mean... I've thought about it. A lot... But I've never... been... Wanted like that..." Her voice got smaller on the last word.

I watched her. She wasn't playing coy. She was actually embarrassed by how much she wanted it. Even though she couldn't say it. That was rare.​

Leaning forward, I told her, "You don't want it to be play. You want someone to want you so badly that they will do anything. Break things for you. Do anything to have you."

She nodded, still unable to look at me. "Yeah. I think so." She finally looked up at me. "I don't want someone to ask if it's okay. I want them to just... take it. Like they can't help it."​

Leaning back, I gave her a feral smile. My eyes devoured hers. Maybe there was more to her than I originally thought?

We chatted for several hours. She was a medical student. Cute in a wholesome way. The type of girl you'd be surprised to see showing up at a kink meetup. We talked the length of my pint. The conversation was awkward and stuttered, like pulling teeth in an interrogation. She sipped tea, and even though there's no alcohol, she began to relax a bit more as I finished. Exploring a person, getting them to talk about themselves, always does that.

"All done here," I told her. "Walk you to your car?"

She had her phone out. "Uber. I don't have a car."

Of course, she didn't.

I nodded, letting silence sit between us. She waited to see what I would do with that information. Smart girl.​

I'd planned on keeping this short. Drive her home and move on. But she kept answering my questions like she actually wanted to be understood. That I might say something to make sense of the mess whirling around in her head.

I drained the last of my pint and set the glass down.

"I'll give you a ride home."

She blinked, surprised. Like she wasn't expecting me to offer anything at all.​

"You don't have to..."

"I know I don't," I cut in. "I'm offering anyway."

She hesitated. I could see the war happening behind her eyes. Part of her wanted to say yes. The other part was probably screaming that getting in a car with a man she just met at a kink meetup was a terrible idea.

I didn't push. I just waited.

After a few seconds, she gave a small nod.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Thank you."

I stood up and drew out my keys. She followed, still fiddling with her sleeves like they might protect her from whatever she thought this was turning into.

As we walked out to my car, I already knew I was probably going to regret this. But something about the way she looked at me back at that meetup is still stuck in my head.

And for some reason, I wasn't ready to let it go yet.

​Turned out her place wasn't far. Apartments for the nearby University.

"This is good," she said. She looked at me a moment, and I stared back. After a long, awkward pause with her getting visibly more frustrated by the moment, she shot forward, planting a small peck on the cheeks. The door opened, and she fled, stopping at the building doors before disappearing inside.

At home, I flipped out my laptop to check email. The FetsBook page was still up, still showed the primal prey meetup. I stared at it a moment, then clicked on the attending link. All the Yeses had pictures, none of them her. I go back and check the Maybes. Two profiles with no pictures. Both women, but one is twenty-five. The handle was Little_Red. It was her. I check the profile, no pictures at all, and only the minimum

Without thinking, I typed out a quick message.

"Just wanted to let you know I made it home ok."

​I checked my email and checked out.

The next day, as I was microwaving dinner, I checked FetsBook and saw a few messages. One was from Little_Red.

"hey thanks for letting me know and for the ride earlier. i really appreciate it. sorry if i was weird at the end there. I get nervous sometimes. but yeah thanks"

​The next few weeks surprised me.

I told myself I'd reply when I felt like it. That I wouldn't get pulled in. She was too new, too young, too green for the kind of thing I usually want. But she kept answering. Not just the easy questions either. She thought about things. Pushed back sometimes. Asked questions that actually made me stop and consider my answers.

I started looking forward to her messages more than I wanted to admit.

One night, she sent something that stuck with me. She said she was scared of losing herself in this, but more scared of never finding out what she actually wanted. I read it twice. Most people her age don't talk like that. Most people, period, don't talk like that.

I caught myself asking her more questions after that. Not the surface ones. Real ones. What scared her the most?. What she thought would happen if she actually gave in. Whether she'd ever told anyone else what she wanted.

She answered every time. Sometimes it took her hours. Sometimes she'd type, delete, and type again before she sent anything. I could feel her overthinking through the screen. But she kept showing up.

That was the part that got to me.

I'd spent years finding women who already knew what they wanted. Women with long, quiet hungers. This one was still figuring it out. And for some reason, I kept replying anyway.

By the third week, I stopped pretending I was going to walk away.

"Second Date?"

I could see that she was on the site. Then she wasn't. Then she was, and wasn't. It took a few hours, but she finally replied.

"yes what do you have in mind?"

There was no need to play games. I wasn't nervous.

"Something special. Do you want to feel how deep the rabbit hole goes?"

She replied soon after. Probably still anxious.

"kk"

The next day, I texted her when I pulled up to the building. A few minutes later, she came out, and I did a double-take.

She knew I liked her FetsBook handle Little_Red. So she came to the date armed. The first thing I noticed was what I originally thought was a bolero jacket. As she approached, I could see it was, in fact, a short velvet cape. Under that was a white blouse, its neckline low enough to draw my eyes. And I let it. She wanted me to look, and so I did openly. A black corset framed her bosom. A red and white checkered skirt well above the knees also begged for my attention. And I let my gaze wander over her above-the-knee stockings.

Little Red indeed.

When she saw the way my eyes moved, she smiled. Small but knowing. She'd done this on purpose, knowing, damn well knowing the effect it would have.

I smiled casual-like and opened the car door for her. It was difficult watching her approach. Her smile was radiant when she saw me do that for her. It was difficult to keep the howl in my throat. My blood was racing. And Hyde, buried deep down inside me somewhere, rattled his cage, aching to be let out. To put his hands all over her. To unwrap the gift that had been delivered. Two me's fought viciously in my head, the gentleman holding her door open, and the beast that wanted to show her what big hungers I had.

She stopped and did a small bouncy curtsey just an arm's length away. I wanted her right then. Wanted to throw her down, tear the wrapping off, and play with my toy. Wanted to do that on the grass of the curb. In front of her building. Both of us howling to the audience of her startled neighbors.

Instead, I smiled, "You certainly live up to your handle."

"I thought you might like," she said getting right up under me on her way to the car.

I pushed the door closed just enough to stop her in her tracks. She looked up at me with wide watery eyes, her breath stopped in her throat, waiting and looking up. Looming over her, I lost control, just for a moment, and swept her into my arms. I wanted to crush her, squeeze the life out of my little plaything, force her to me so hard we became one.

Instead, I took the kiss she'd wanted to give me a few weeks ago. I crushed my lips to hers, devouring. Sucking her breath into my lungs, feeling her inside me, her essence becoming a part of me.

When I let go of her, she had the glassy gaze of a deer under headlights, knowing the enviable is rushing toward them, but being stunned in its splendor.

"That was for stealing my kiss last time."

She laughed, a nervous titter, and blushed crimson. She tried to say something, but I knew she was overwhelmed with thoughts, feelings, a hurricane of emotions. I guided her into the passenger seat and shut the door.

When I slid in, the car started with a growl. She was still trying to speak, but nothing came out. I let my hand glide from the shifter between us to her bare knee and gave it a squeeze. Coherent thought vanished from her eyes.