A SAFFRON DAWN rises over the temperate plains of South California and the people make their way out from their beds, to their showers, then to a day full of distinguished events.
Just like clockwork.
Deep in the forests beyond, the animals do the same also, although theirs' is a bit more habitual. In this bustling city, there are some among who are not quite human nor animal. But a hybrid of both.
These totally mysterious folk also awake with the dawn that washes over the land.
~. ~. ~.
A gleaming red Porsche 911 pulls into a driveway inside the domains of the Stanford University. You know how it goes with private institutions. Imagine Money and Opulence, a lot of it, and you get Stanford.
A boy with pale hair the color of sunrise climbs out of the Porsche onto the asphalt. He pauses, inhaling the slightly cold morning air. A couple of conversing girls look his way.
He stands at an impressive height, taller than most boys his age. The word 'Boy' might even be insulting for him. His shoulders are wide, and his jaw is defined and clean-shaven. But his deep brown eyes spit fire: a depth of hidden passion.
The doors to the vehicle click shut and he calmly strides away. As he walks away, his body moves fluidly across with lean muscle tones on full display for the girls' eyes.
A minute later, another car sweeps silently to a halt beside the red Porsche. This vehicle holds a little more mystery than the first. Pure black tones glint at the rays of the sun and the car model seems to speak more of the person within.
An Aston Martin...
This was certainly a person who held power, and loved it. When the door glides open and a woman climbs out, all heads on the pavement turn to her.
Scarlet Louboutins click softly on the tarmac as she rises, and the eyes of the men—and women on the sidewalk instantly pin on her body. The woman was molded into perfection.
She bends over, reaching down into the car for her purse and her skirt cinches on her shapely thighs, running over a too-enticing ass then to a crisp white shirt that hugs her generous breasts.
A few buttons hang open, and a lovely shade of chocolate skin spills over. The woman rises with a suit jacket curled over one arm and a single purse in the other. With a careful tug on the car key, the doors lock in and she walks away.
The men and women stare on until she disappears into a sprawling lecture building. They are completely unaware of the fact that inspite of the fact that she was literally a sex dream, and wore skin like them, she was also something more.
...Something more animal.
~. ~. ~.
Ryan walks into the lecture hall to find it already brimming with students whispering to one another.
How many students studied fucking History!
The hall wasn't full, infact, he wasn't sure it could. It was so big and expansive with stellar lighting and exciting atmosphere. But he could tell straight-up that something was wrong. Or in this case, too right.
He gingerly strides across the room and up the rows of chairs until he finds a perfect spot.
A lonely spot.
He fixes in his earphones and reclines on his seat. His eyes are slowly closing over when shadows form before his darkening vision. He frowns and shuts his eyes tight, hoping whoever the 'unwanted' visitor is takes a hint and walks away.
No such luck.
A second later, the seat beside him creaks as someone settles themselves in. Another creak sounds and his eyes abruptly fly open. The hazel orbs widen as his vision focuses on the person beside him. The person was a She. A pretty one, and familiar too. But he didn't feel a thing.
He immediately knew why he felt nothing. He didn't want to dwell on it but it kept latching onto his stupid brain. His fucking messed up brain! If the girl before him was just a few years older, he knew he would have been all over her by now.
The girl clears her throat and stretches out her hand.
"Hi! I'm Melissa."
He looks awkwardly at her stretched hand. When her gaze falters on him, he quickly collects it and she smiles warmly at him. Pretty smile too... And those eyes. Lovely green eyes.
When his brain finally combines all her stunning features into an older outlook, Ryan pales so fast Melissa's eyes widen.
He clears his throat, seriously hoping her answer to the question he was about to ask would be 'No'.
"Are you Melissandre... Melissandre Mancuso?"
"Yes," she replies and Ryan looses all the blood in his face. "Do you know my parents?" she asks.
"No! Hell no!" he replies too suddenly.
Melissa nods to his pale face, thinking he was one of those shy cute guys. If only the poor girl knew. If only.
"I hear we're having a new Professor." Melissa says to him.
Ryan nods, grunting in reply as he looks away, and thanking God he didn't create humans with the ability to read minds. How would he have explained to Melissa that just hours ago he had been deeply seated in her mother's sweet pussy.
"Fuck!" he rasps. Melissa instantly looks to him.
"Sorry?"
"No, it's nothing," he mutters hurriedly.
He had to make this lovely pretty girl not like him more than she already obviously did. Normally, he would be up for some sweaty hot sex with Melissa but fucking both Mother and daughter was a little too much—even for him.
So he looks away to the front of the lecture room. The new Professor calmly walks in, her heels clicking faintly on the floors. The room falls so silent he hears his own breathing.
For the second time that morning, all the blood drains from his face. This time, to a particular lower extremity.