"You look lovely this evening, Isabella."

I've controlled the thirst as long as I can. Tonight I'll feast.

She places the cup on the table. I watch her pulse flutter like a tiny bird's wing in the delicate hollow of her neck. Her blood sings a siren's song to me and nearly drives me insane. Searing bloodlust ravages my body. It claws at my insides. The white hot need to sink into her creamy, soft flesh burns in every pore of my body. The promise of pleasure and satisfaction is around the corner.

"But not as lovely as you, Marguerite."

__________
Flash fiction. 100 words. WattVampire contest #1

Author's note: There are many ways to interpret this story. Who do you think is sitting at the table? Isabella or Marguerite? And who is the vampire?

And just for fun another Flash Fiction follows that was not submitted to any contest.