Tara's laugh was infectious, and she soon had the rest of her little group giggling along with her. It was one of those situations where nobody knows why they were laughing, or how it started, but none of them could stop. Tears were now streaming down Tara's youthful cheeks, and even her non-run mascara was beginning to lose its grip from around her hazel eyes, but she didn't mind. It felt good to be back among friends, especially after being away for nearly three years, working as a nanny in California, but now she was home and ready to enjoy every moment of her return. Her two companions in the bar were Sheila and Adrienne, both old pals from an office that she worked in before she left to be a nanny, and although she never liked the job much, she couldn't have asked for better colleagues to work with.

"Another glass of wine?" Adrienne asked the others, in between sobs of helpless hysterics.

Sheila nodded her agreement, unable to speak properly due to her giggles, while Tara asked for a Bacardi and Coke instead. While Adrienne went to the bar the other two struggled to regain their composure.

"It is just so wonderful to meet up again," said Sheila. "I just can't remember the last time that I had so much fun."

"Even more so for me," replied Tara. "I know that living in California sounds lovely, but the reality is that I hardly ever went out without taking the children with me."

"But what about the men out there, after all they all look bronzed and muscular on the T.V., and I'm sure one of them could have given you a good time," Sheila proposed with a suggestive wink.

Tara shook her head negatively. "All those types are only interested in one person, and that is themselves. They take being a poser to the highest level, and quite honestly I think most of them aren't really interested in girls anyway; if you know what I mean."

Sheila looked dejected as one of her fantasies of lying on a Californian beach with a hulking male was shattered, but she immediately cheered up as Adrienne returned with the drinks.

"Wine for you Sheila," she declared in a loud voice, while handing over the glass, "Bacardi for Tara, and you'll never guess what happened while I was at the bar?"

She waited for a moment hoping to get a response from the others, but none was forthcoming so she continued. "This really handsome chap came up to me and started asking questions about you Tara."

Tara looked stunned before asking. "Which guy? Where is he? Point him out to me, will you?"

"Over there, in the corner," Adrienne pointed out a thin-faced man, with a head of curly dark hair, hanging just on his shoulders.

Tara looked over, and the man gave her a sensitive smile with a small wave of his hand. "Why, I do believe it is Byron Cookson," she said knowingly.

The other two girls glanced at each other, and Sheila mouthed the words, "Who's Byron Cookson?"

"Excuse me," said Tara, "but I think that is an old college friend of mine. I won't be a moment." She then strode off to meet him leaving her two companions speechless.

It was Byron, and he greeted her with a peck on the cheek and a loving hug, although he appeared much thinner than when she had last seen him. His complexion was also a pale ashen gray instead of the tanned skin that she remembered, but there was no doubt that they were the same deep blue eyes that she had looked longingly into many times during her late teens.

"Great to see you," Tara declared with a girlish smile. "It must be five years. What have you been doing with yourself?"

"A bit of this and a bit of that. You know, anything to make a couple of quid."

Byron had always been a bit of a wheeler-dealer, with one eye for a good enterprise, and one for a pretty lady. In fact it was because of his philandering that they had broke up, but she was older now, and seeing him again had stirred up a bit of that old passion that she used to have for him.

"Can I get you a drink?" He enquired.

"Yes please," she enthused. "I'll have a Bacardi and Coke, if that's alright."

Byron nodded with an affirmative grin, then he leaned across the bar and bellowed. "One Bacardi and Coke for the most beautiful women in the room, please."

Tara cringed with embarrassment, but she knew that it was just his extroverted way of a compliment, and in a small way it made her feel flattered.

Once they got talking the time seemed to flash by, and all the old memories came flooding back, but there was something odd about him that didn't seem right, although Tara couldn't quite put her finger on it. He talked the same, moved in the same way, his expressions were the same and apart from his pallid and gaunt features he looked the same, but something nagged at the back of Tara's mind telling her that all was not what it appeared. After a couple more drinks her anxieties faded, and she got on with rebuilding her old friendship, and it was only when Adrienne and Sheila came up to her and said that they had to get off, she realised that she had completely forgotten about her two friends.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised, "but I was.."

"Don't worry about it," interjected Sheila. "We have both got work in the morning, and you look as if you have plenty of life still left in you. We'll see you later in the week anyway."

Then they left, but not before making a few suggestive winks and gestures in the direction of Byron.

"Just you and me now," declared Byron with a wickedly mischievous grin.

"Fancy doing something else."

Tara agreed, and although she knew that the drink had probably clouded her judgement, for once in her life she didn't really care.

As they made their way home Tara continued her alcohol influenced giggling, while clinging on to Byron's arm for some much needed physical support. After the bar they had gone for an Italian meal, followed by a couple of hours of hectic dancing at the local night-club called 'Clayton's', and although she was jaded, she didn't feel ready to go home - not just yet!

As they walked past a Church, Byron made a suggestion. "How do you fancy slipping into the graveyard for a little bit of a cuddle."

"You don't change, do you?" Tara teased before leading him through the wrought iron gates. "But I love it. C'mon, let's find a quiet little spot all to ourselves."

Seating themselves upon one of the gravestones Byron wrapped his arms around her, and placed a sensuous kiss upon Tara's expectant lips. Running his fingers through her hair, he stroked the nape of her neck and her shoulders before suddenly becoming aware of the touch of Tara's hand on his groin.

"C'mon," she whispered. "Let's not fuck about. I want you and you want me, so let's do it now!"

Byron needed no second asking, and he lifted her short black skirt up around Her waist, and tugged her panties down. Tara bent down, flicked them off her ankles, and laughingly threw them over her shoulder with gay abandon. "Come and get it big boy," she taunted before lying back on the gravestone with her legs slightly apart.

Byron lay across her, and they both kissed passionately with tongues darting like striking snakes into each others mouths as they fumbled with the last few remaining garments that were restricting their passions. As Byron thrust himself into her, Tara gave a triumphant moan of pleasure, which continued with greater vigour as her lover continued with his intense lust for gratification.

It didn't take long for either of them to achieve fulfillment and as they lay there panting hot breath over each others heaving bodies, Tara started to feel the initial emotions of guilt and shame now that the effects of the alcohol had worn off a little.

She looked up to tell Byron to get off, only to find him scowling back at her with his teeth bared back to expose the thin red colour of his gums, and his eyes staring empty and lifeless like stagnant pools of oil.

Tara shuddered with fear. "What's wrong Byron," she asked apprehensively.

His reply was an immense howling roar like a wounded animal in pain, which made Tara's blood freeze in her veins. She struggled to free herself from underneath him, but he had a firm grip of her arms and his weight was too much for her to shift.

"Get off, you bastard." She screamed hysterically. "Get off me now!"

He didn't budge, if anything his grip tightened on her, but then he started to squeal in a high-pitched banshee wail, and as Tara looked up at him she could see that his face was twisting up in agonizing pain. Veins bulged out on skin that appeared to be as thin as gossamer, so fine in fact, that she could see his bones through it. His tongue was hanging out like a panting dog, with saliva dripping from his tormented jaws onto Tara's cheek. She winced with revulsion, and it took all her strength to stop herself from being sick.

Suddenly she felt his clutch starting to loosen, and knew that this was her chance to try and escape. Freeing her arms she pushed against his chest, only to find that her hands went straight through his torso. He was fading rapidly - disappearing into thin air before her very eyes. She blinked momentarily to re-adjust her vision and found that he was no longer there; Byron had just vanished.

For a few moments she just lay there, not quite sure if what she had observed was actually real, or if she had just been imagining it all, then a quick glance at the dishevelled state of her clothing convinced her that it had not been her imagination. Suddenly the moon burst through the clouds, filling the churchyard with an eerie soft light that illuminated how solitary and alone she was. A feeling of isolation overtook her, as she realised that she was alone in an empty graveyard in the middle of the night, and it filled her with an immense and overwhelming urge to run.

Getting to her feet she was just about to leave when she noticed the white sheen of her panties hanging on the headstone of the grave she had earlier been led upon. She grabbed at them to remove any evidence that she had been there, when she noticed the inscription on the headstone.