Name: Lorrea Chelsea Scarlet Meir
Gender: Female
Age: 30
Place of Birth: Sidney, Australia
Species: Mortal.
Appearance: Lorrea Meir, ‘Lor’ as she is known to those she deems friends, is a leggy, 5’ 10” beauty from Australia. Her face was made to be photographed, with her large almond-shaped eyes, slightly tanned smooth skin with her dainty mole on the right side of her nose, she looks like an angel. Always wearing the appearance of sophistication, poise and control with just enough of the alluring to make you interested, she is somewhat of a silent temptress who wins your heart through the guise of innocence.
With her lithe model type body, elegant features and impeccable sense of style, she always looks right out of the pages of a magazine. Soft cheekbones accentuate the elegant contours of her face and brighten her already appealing smile to new heights, giving you the feeling that her smile just for you. It is a trait she inherited from her mother and has proven useful in getting her whatever she wanted.
Her flowing dark tresses which reach the middle of her back; are often highlighted with contrasting golden streaks to give it that sun-kissed look. However, appearances can and will deceive you and with Lor that is a proven fact. In the boardroom she is elegant, graceful and professional, wearing streamlined clothing, tailored suits and tasteful hairstyles, you would think her born to be in charge. However, like most she has a side outside the office, outside the world she was raised into, a world of leather, short skirts and skin bearing apparel.
Personality: If you met Lorrea Meir on the street on any given day of the week you’d think she was the most put together woman you’d ever seen. Confident in action and dress, you would never think she had a care in the world with the ease her smile slips from its hiding place and graces the world with its presence. Always ready with a witty remark or quip, she is an instant hit with people, a natural conversationalist.
You would think such a woman would be careful, cautious, tending to the sure and safe rather than the wild, adventurous and sometimes dangerous. However you would be wrong in your thinking, very wrong indeed. Lor has her dark side, an unyielding need to fill her life with the exciting, trying to get that next big fix of adrenalin. Growing up, her lived a life that was typically mundane, boring beyond measure because of pride and propriety instilled by her mother and stepfather. They had expectations and Lor sought to fulfill them, while also satisfying herself. The contrasting and battling desires of all involved left Lorrea Meir with the insatiable need to walk on the wild side, to push the limits that she could go while still retaining an almost alter ego day life which in all ways represented the life her parents’ designed.
Like her mother, Lor has been prone to fits of emotions, completely unpredictable when her passions are aroused. She has shattered more than one plate and mirror in her time and even smashed a taillight in her anger. However, in her battles with sadness, the opposite is true, she becomes reclusive, almost completely isolating herself from any human contact save for work, where even then she remains beloved yet aloof. A woman of deep emotions sometimes she fears they might one day get the best of her and she will wind up like her mother, sedated and institutionalized for the rest of her life.
You would never guess this composed woman held a secret fear of going mad.
History: I was born in Australia, a country of kangaroos, koalas and snakes, in Sidney. I was the last of six children, all of whom were girls. My father was Rolph Meir, a German born architect who came to Australia on a building project for his company Meir-Stein, and never left. He always said he saw Australia as one of the most beautiful places he’d ever seen and it wasn’t all because my mother had been the one to greet him at the airport when he arrived. My mother, Adelaide Meir nee Hayden, was a public relations of official for the City of Sidney development council. She was to be the liaison between him and the higher-ups.
Their romance was far from romantic in nature; in fact it almost never came to pass. My mother had suffered for so long with her feelings and past relationships that left her scared and wary, that when my father sought to win her, she shot him down long before he ever got a chance. Luckily, my father was a patient and persevering man. He never gave up on her, not once. They always told the story differently when describing how it was they finally came together; my father claimed he knew he’d gotten to her heart at a picnic held by Meir-Stein in summer, while my mother says it was the Christmas party held by the council where he finally gained ground with her. Whichever the truth, the point was they got together, and after that it was a high-speed locomotive ride.
My sister joined the family a year after our parents’ wed, which incidentally was only five months after they officially began dating. Mum said after all she’d been through, she knew the right one when she met him and she wasn’t about to let him go. First came Kate, then Gloria, Marty, Josie, Dahlia and then finally me. We all inherited something from our parents; I was blessed with my mother’s looks and personality, while balancing my father’s uncanny ability to fit in seamlessly with others, and his brown eyes.
It was before I was born, that my mother began to have problems. It started with not eating or crying herself to sleep for no reason. Father knew of her past, of the therapists she’d seen and medications she’d been on, but they thought she was better that she was over that, but they were wrong. By the time I was born mum’s tantrums and irrational behaviour and increased but not so noticeably that anyone outside the family would notice. Father made her get help and for a time it worked with his support and love, but then he died and I knew things would never be the same. It was sudden, an aneurism. One minute he was smiling by the grill making burgers and chicken and then suddenly he was laying on the ground not moving, not breathing.
I was nine when my father died and I remember it so clearly, perhaps that’s why I do the things I do. His life was taken from him while he was yet young and had so much to do, yet he would miss it all, the chance to see us grow up, get married, have children…everything. Richard stepped in after died; his best friend for most of his life, Richard had been there through my parents’ courtship and marriage. He was ‘Uncle Richard’. He took care of us, helped mother cope with what had happened and then a few months later, ‘Uncle Richard’ became my new father, marrying my mother in a small ceremony in the garden of his large home.
I suppose some would have resented him for trying to take our father’s place but I didn’t. I loved Richard as much as I had my father, for he had been there for all of my life. My sisters did not all share those sentiments and for some time our house was a storm of emotions and tensions that only settled when my eldest sister Kate, left home. Being the baby I would see all of my sisters leave and my mother’s condition grow steadily worse. She was diagnosed as being bi-polar and put on medication, medication she hated however it kept her calm and lucid. They had big hopes and huge desires for my life and I didn’t want to disappoint, especially not my mother.
My secret life began at fifteen, when I smoked my first marijuana joint. I liked the rush it sent to my brain and the thrill of getting caught just made it all the better. I knew it wasn’t the thing for the head of her year to be doing but I wanted to do something that wasn’t because of anyone else. However, like any addiction it grew as I did. I kept my mask, good grades, the chair on all the best societies at my high school and valedictorian of my graduating year. No one had any idea that I was already into a steady habit of marijuana and alcohol, and of course sex. They all seemed to go hand-in-hand.
In college I dabbled with the harder stuff, but it wasn’t for me so I found something else to take its place. I was an animal through college, keeping up good grades while being at every rave, foam party and mixer I could get access to, and still I wanted more. I got my chance when I moved to Canada, to Toronto to study business and management. Richard was grooming me to take over the company and perhaps even open an office in Canada. By the time I graduated I had all the connections and opportunities a fine education, money and great connections could bring. Richard got me an internship with a large software company and before I knew it, my career was soaring. Driven to always succeed and never let the veil fall, I did everything I could to make it. However, we all have our vices and our needs, our way to take it down a notch for me that was visiting the parts of Demaitre, where I was now employed, darker side. Night clubs, private parties, you name it I found myself there while still maintaining my elitist day life. You could say I found a balance.
It was just after I started my job and I was on a training program to Australia, back home with my family, that the mood swings started. One moment I perfectly fine and the other just wanted to never leave bed. My mother had been admitted to a facility for her own safety only a month before and everyone was wary of the signs. We had all seen them; all knew it was possible to inherit her illness. So, I did what any normal person would…I pretended. I acted as if nothing was wrong, built up the mask to hide my spiralling emotions. However, despite my best efforts there were a few occasions that brought the alert, such as the day I got sick of them telling me about seeing someone and threw the lounge chair in the pool. Later I would break a few mirrors and dishes during a fight with my sisters. Eventually I thought I had control.
I think I have control. I hope I have control. I don’t want to go mad like my mother, to be locked away from the world like an animal unfit to be seen. I’m afraid of the feeling inside of me, the deep feelings inside of me that seem to overwhelm me at times and the only thing that breaks that is him and the thrill I get from him. Only he can quiet the fears inside my head.
A year ago, I found the ultimate thrill, the best adrenalin rush I had ever come across and to date nothing has surpassed it. I met him at a party, one of those; you get a text with the location and just show up parties. I found myself on every party list of that sort in town as it assured I met knew people all the time and was undoubtedly not going to be patronised by anyone who might know me in my day life. He was tall, slender with pale skin and piercing green eyes. I never did get his name, though I saw him often. He always seemed to find the party no matter where it was but I can honestly tell you, I never did see a phone near him and I never questioned where he got his information from. You could say there was attraction to each other from the start, though names were never exchanged. Then one night I changed the status of our relationship by taking the initiative to dance with me. It was a tantalising seduction on the dance floor that sent my blood through the roof. We decided to take things to the roof where there was a little more privacy. Yes I was a risk taker, aiming to have sex with a man I didn’t know just because I thought it would be a thrill. What can say, I needed a fix. I got more than I bargained for.
I don’t remember when I realised there was something different about him, perhaps it was the way his skin was so cold or the way he moved. Whatever it was, I felt it. I finally came to the realisation that this was not going as planned, this encounter, the moment his hand gripped my throat and his mouth connected with my neck. Truly, I say this to you; as much as it was painful it was pleasurable. I could hardly breath, my skin tingled, my senses seemed to heighten under his fanged love bite and I held on to him as if willing more. He must have sensed my feelings, my enjoyment, the thrill it was sending to my brain and perhaps that is why he chose me and spared my life.
I never imagined that such a creature could exist, till I woke in the hospital the next morning. I was weak and pale but otherwise fine and was back to work in no time, but the memory wouldn’t leave me and I had to find him again. I had to get that high again. You may call me perverse, and you have all the right in the world to, but I rather think of it as just another addiction, another way to push the limits. We began our game then, both finding satisfaction in each other. He used me to satisfy his thirst, and I gained the thrill of knowing that every time I walked away from our encounter I was narrowly escaping my own death. There is no greater high than to cheat death.
