It was when the half moon light bathing their corpses, on a Sunday night, that scarlet freshness of that unforgivable hit their tongues. The blood danced in their lips like that long haired girl in a red dress in a smoky nightclub did: sensual, promiscuous, delicious. That's probably because it was such girl, and her essence transmitted to their sinned hunger. Laughing, the dark eyed one smile, teeth stained in red.
Drinking apple cider, she leaned upon the bouncer, her cleavage jumping to his sight. He said, it's on the house, and she, turned around and moved her hips to the rhythm of the old men's eyes sitting on the counter.
Like a flash, Derek appeared. Licked his lips while checked her hourglass figure hugging the deep cleaved red dress, the slit cutting up until the curve of her bum. It was so quick: a touch in the arm, a flirty smile, a joke.  Five minutes later she was on her knees on the dirty bathroom of O'Jonnells.
And ten minutes later, she was on her back, squishing blood out of her neck.