09-13-2013, 09:46 PM
For Love Of A Vampire
Now don’t get me wrong, I’d rather not be one of the undead. All that sleeping in coffins, the dental problems, the lack of social acceptance. I mean, you wouldn’t choose it, right? No sun bathing, always looking for the next blood bank, having to settle for corpses if you can’t get the fresh stuff. All very tawdry.
But, if you’re that way inclined, you’re kind of stuck with it, on account of there not being a cure, other than a wooden stake through the heart; and that’s not exactly attractive, not at all. So what I’m saying is that you have to go with the flow, take the positives out of it, make the best of a bad situation. Know what I mean?
People think that vampires are cold, brutal creatures, but that’s simply not true; we have feelings too. We would vote Democrat if we could vote - and that’s another problem, we’re disenfranchised - we care about the unemployed and the needy, and we agonise about pro-life versus pro-choice. In short, we are just like people, only rather dead.
There are advantages of course. You get to watch history, instead of just reading about it. My favourite was the French revolution: all those heads removed by Madame la Guillotine! Blood everywhere! Nothing could have been better. And then again, you don’t have to worry about disease, and the efforts of those vampire-hunters are just pathetic: holy water and garlic! Whatever next? Silver bullets?
Everyone thinks blood is just blood, that any old type will do and, at a pinch, that is true, but that hides a multitude of difference. Fresh is obviously best, and taken straight from the donor is just delicious. The younger the better too, and crack heads and alcoholics are to be avoided - I got a shocking hangover once after partaking of a drunk driver. Too, the discerning palate can recognise the different types: the common, everyday A and O, the less common B, and especially the rarest of all, the delicious AB. Yummy!
Now, being both gay and not really alive makes me a very small minority indeed. The good news is that our particular clan embraces diversity in all its forms, so it doesn’t matter whether you are LGBT, disabled, or of another race (we don’t bother much with creed, to be honest), you’re accepted as a fully paid-up member of the undead. The living could learn a lot from us in this regard.
Anyway, enough of philosophy. I was randy and hungry, and night was falling, so I shut the lid, brushed the soil off my coat and made for the local neighbourhood gay bar. It was well patronised, and I always tried to get there before the clientele were completely drunk or drugged out of their minds (see: hangover, above), or before the best meat was taken.
The advantage of being like me is that you don’t have to spend time chatting people up; we exert a strong influence over our victims which renders them helpless to resist our desires. So when I spotted this rather handsome young guy, tall and athletic-looking, I headed straight for him and turned on the charm. It worked a treat, and soon the two of us were lying on my huge four poster bed. Note: this is definitely not for sleeping in.
He was gorgeous, hard and muscular, toned and defined. I jumped on him and stroked that lean body, running my hands over his sweating skin, smelling his crotch and armpits. I nibbled his tight little tits and licked along the hairy trail that led to the prize below. We were both hot to bursting by this time; and we made violent love in the sweaty bed for a long, long time. Panting and exhausted, we lay there together.
It was time. I turned his head to one side and found the pulsing vein in his neck. I settled down to feed. I hadn’t eaten for a while, so by the time I’d had my fill he was looking quite pale, his pulse faint and erratic. I wondered whether to keep him or not; I could let the others feed, and see him perish, or allow the virus to take its course and produce another member of the damned. The unmentionable thing was rising in the east, so I pulled the blinds and made sure they were tight, and decided to sleep on it.
There was plenty left for breakfast (we have breakfast in the evening and supper in the morning), and seeing him lying there, so young and handsome, I decided to give him the everlasting gift of eternal life, along with a hunger for the red stuff. It would be painful of course; I shuddered as I remembered my own transformation, all those centuries ago.
Before the change began, and his blood became unpalatable, I filled a couple of flasks and popped them in the freezer, properly labelled and dated of course; you don’t want to let the stuff get past its use-by date. Surprised? Of course we embrace modern technology, what do you think we are, savages? And guess what my favourite TV show is - that’s right, Buffy…..
I chained him to the bed so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and called Ramon, dear Ramon; I had turned him back in the day, before Andalucia became Spain.
‘Hey, Ramon, how’s it going, buddy?’
‘How’s it going? Down the toilet, that’s how it’s going!’
Ramon had lived in Brooklyn too long. One year bad, one century worse.
‘I’m living off scraps, that’s how it’s going! And it’s disgusting, some old tramp I found in a ditch. Think McDonalds without the class!’
He was certainly in a bad mood.
‘Why don’t you come round? I’ll make you a nice Bloody Rita.’
‘Don’t you mean Bloody Mary?’
‘Nah, the broad’s name was Rita, a nice mellow Type B. Think soft, full-bodied Burgundy. I got three bottles left and they’re maturing nicely.’
‘Gimme ten minutes, I’m there.’
I’ve always had a soft spot for Ramon. He’s small and cuddly and giggly, a bit like a little puppy; you want to pat him on the head and tell him, good boy, sit and beg. Trouble is, he doesn’t make a good vampire; I mean, nobody’s afraid of him, they just laugh, which is not what you want.
I handed him the glass, and he took a sip.
‘That’s good stuff, man. What have you been up to, Nostro?’
‘C’mon, I’ll show you.’
He took one look at the handsome young man chained to the bed and started rubbing his crotch.
‘Go ahead, Rammy, help yourself.’
It was a great sight to see Ramon mounting those muscular buttocks and humping him with all the energy he had, which was considerable, his body sweating and his hips pumping. In fact, I got so hot watching it that I joined in, getting on the stallion too. I’d always liked threesomes. Everyone was pretty exhausted by the time we finished.
The sun was due to rise soon, so I bad Ramon goodbye and repaired to my coffin - a very smart polished wood affair - and slept the sleep of the dead, which was not surprising.
When I awoke, I went to get my usual breakfast - a tall glass of the red stuff - and strangely enough I didn’t enjoy it much. Maybe it was getting a little old. I went to check on the lad, whose transformation should be complete by now, and - he was gone! He’d picked the lock, and scarpered! I was dumbfounded. Then I saw the note left on the pillow:
‘Dear Nostro,
Thanks very much for the sex, which was quite good. Ramon is very nice too. You’re the third vampire I’ve gone with; it’s kind of a fetish I have.
You’re surprised I haven’t become like you? My uncle is a long time vampire hunter, and he got so fed up with all that wooden stake and garlic stuff, that he developed a vaccine against the virus, which he tried out on me. And it works! I can’t be infected!
It’s not so good from your perspective of course. Since you drank some of my blood, you’ve got the antidote too, so you’ll revert to being human within a few days. Being hundreds of years old of course…. well, I won’t elaborate. Just enjoy a drink while you can!
Love
Jimmy.’
I looked in the mirror - and I could see my reflection for the first time in half a millennium!
Oh, well, it was nice while it lasted. I got a bottle of Rita and waited for sunrise.
The End
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Scorpio
