In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Feast
Beatrice lounged in her private cabana by the hotel pool, her eyes concealed behind vintage Chanel sunglasses. She drank in the sight before her, of young men and women, their bodies firm and lithe, frolicking in the crystal clear water. Their heart beats thundered in her ear, their scent, a mingling of perfume, perspiration, desperation, entranced her olfactory glands. The plethora of stimuli caused her canines to elongate. It had been too long since her last feeding but now before her was a feast of flesh and blood. Beatrice caught the eye of one of the young men, dark-haired, strapping. Perfect. She crooked her finger and he strutted towards her. She was famished.