Kill Me

by Alex Owens

  The first guy was a bit creepy, but the second man was hot. I nicknamed them Dark and Dangerous almost immediately. I’d take dangerous any day over dark. There was no trusting a man that took that much care with his appearance—you’d always be second in the relationship.

  “And China, an old friend,” Bette motioned to the blonde woman in the back, whose stripper was oriental. Talk about irony.

  “Nice to meet you all,” I said quickly. Something in Bette’s tone told me that she was on edge. Was it because of the talk she promised me, or her other guests?

  A waitress entered the room with an obscenely large bottle of champagne and five glasses. “Will there be anything else, Miss?” she asked Bette.

  I stifled a laugh. While Bette was stop-traffic gorgeous, she obviously wasn’t a “Miss”. I guessed her age to be near mine, or maybe just a couple of years older.

  Bette sliced me with a steely gaze before returning her attention to the waitress. “Yes, send me a girl. A healthy, bubbly one.”

  The waitress crinkled her forehead at the strange turn of phrase. “Sure, I’ll send one right in.” She hurried from the room.

  “So, Clara, tell us a little about you,” China said while the stripper bobbed up and down on her lap. I was becoming grumpy and thirsty again. Imagine that. I had to talk to Bette and doing the whole cocktail party introduction thing wasn’t my style. I only forced myself to smile and make small talk when it was my job, which this clearly wasn’t.

  I looked to Bette who was uncorking the champagne and pouring it into the glasses. She nodded indicating that I should answer.

  “Well, I’m an account manager for a boutique advertising firm,” I started.

  “Humph. Blue collar,” said one of the men, the one I’d nicknamed Dark.

  I ignored him, afraid of what I might say if I replied. People who couldn’t be cordial had a way of getting under my skin. I continued, trying to keep the bite out of my reply.

  “I live in coastal Virginia and I have an eight-year old daughter named Quinn,” I said.

  Bette almost dropped the glass she was holding. “You can’t have a child! You are not wearing a wedding ring.”

  What century was she from? Gawd.

  “Well, Bette, I am married, but separating, so I’m not wearing the rings,” I said, hoping that made sense. Only I knew the real reason my fingers remained jewelry-free. Specifically, that I’d had to borrow money against my entire bridal set last month to cover the mortgage and I’d been stressing over it ever since.

  “So you like men?” said China, looking pointedly at Bette.

  I started to point out the obvious, like the might-as-well-be-naked girl stroking my neck, but I was too tired for snark. “I married a man, so I guess I like them well enough most of the time.”

  “Elizabetta, did you not know of the husband, or the child?” Dangerous said.

  Bette looked bewildered and it was odd to see her not totally in-control at the moment. “No, I did not,” she said.

  “Quite the predicament you’ve placed us in,” said Dark.

  “Are we sure this conversation is even necessary?” said China.

  “China is right. We are getting ahead of ourselves,” Bette agreed.

  What they hell were they talking about? I was having a hard time following. Their voices seemed to be faster, like I was hearing the frequency wrong or something. Maybe the alcohol was finally kicking in like it should have an hour ago.

  “Clara, talk to me. What questions did you have?” said Bette, passing out the filled champagne glasses.

  A new stripper entered the room. She was a southern belle, all the way down to her peach-colored bikini and seductive drawl. “What can I do for y’all?” she said.

  Bette summoned the girl to her, and she complied by mirroring the actions of every other stripper in the room, except for Morgan. She had regained some of her charisma and was using it against me. She’d pressed her bare chest to me and was stroking my thigh, tracing just fractions of an inch higher with each loop of her hand.

  That made it so much easier to think.

  “Well, I thought we were going to talk in private,” I hedged.

  “We are,” said Bette, “the ladies are not paying us any attention. So ask what you will.”

  It was Bette’s friends that bothered me, not the strippers. I’m sure they’d heard all kinds of things in their line of work.

  “But I don’t know where to start,” I said, swatting Morgan’s hand away when she skimmed the tender skin just outside of my bikini line.

  “The beginning will do,” said China with a trace of impatience in her voice.

  “Okay. What is with that violin of yours Bette? How could I play it?” I asked.

  I heard the men murmur to themselves. China remained silent, but stared at Bette.

  “I told you, that instrument is enchanted. It called to you; it is how I knew you were the one,” Bette said.

  “I’ll pretend that makes any sense for now. But how could I play it?”

  “Only those destined for our life can play it,” Bette said simply.

  Well, that was helpful. Since I was striking out on all fronts, I decided to push on until I learned something useful.

  “Okay, I’ll come back to that too. Why don’t I remember a single thing from last night? I know I had a lot to drink, but if I’d had enough to black out, surely I would have had a hangover this morning.”

  Dark and Dangerous pushed their strippers to the side, to pay better attention to the conversation.

  “We’ll come back to that in a moment,” Bette hedged. “What else did you want to ask?”

  “Uh, okay. Did I do something to Domino earlier, like he insists?”

  That got China’s attention. She tossed aside her doll as well.

  “I am not sure, Clara. If you did, it is outside the scope of my knowledge.”

  Well, this was going swimmingly. “Okay, how is it that after a night I don’t remember, I haven’t used the restroom once, I have no desire to eat but I could drink everything in this building and still be thirsty, and when I cry my tears are pink?”

  “So you did do it!” Dark addressed Bette in a congratulatory fashion.

  “Has she really had nothing to eat yet?” China got up to study me like I was some experiment on display. She leaned in, too close for comfort, staring at my mouth. She looked like she wanted to dissect me. “How is she so...so composed?”

  “That is why I brought you all here. Did you think it was for the oppressive heat and the loose women?” Bette said.

  “I’m sure China did,” sneered Dark.

  “Would somebody please tell me what you guys are talking about? You’re creeping me out.” I wasn’t kidding either. My skin crawled with dread and apprehension. Something bad was coming. I could practically see the storm-clouds rolling in.

  My spidey-sense was right on the nose, and for once, I figured it out ahead of time.

  Chapter 13

  Bette caressed me with her gaze, her features softening. “Last night, we made love, Clara. And you begged me to do it. Do you truly not remember?”

  I shuddered. I hated that phrase—make love— it was too cutesy, too Pollyanna. Real people had sex. The act was a verb and deserved an action-word. One couldn’t invent love by getting naked. Therefore love was not possible to make. It already existed or it didn’t.

  Really though, I was just avoiding the topic at hand. I had slept with a woman. And I didn’t remember a second of it. Damn.

  “Great, so my first time with a woman and it might as well of not happened,” I complained mostly to myself.

  One of the stupid men gaping at me snickered—who cares which one found my girl-virginity amusing. “Wait, what do you mean, I begged you to do it? Do what?”

  “I turned you, I think. Or I tried, but it doesn’t seem to have taken, at least not fully,” Bette explained.

  “Turn me into what, a pumpkin?” My humor missed its mark apparentl
y, because nobody seemed to get the joke. Have I mentioned that I make stupid jokes under stress?

  “One of us. Like me,” Bette was being vague and it scared me. She was usually uber-direct. She continued, “I fed from you, drained you of most of your blood, and then I fed you.”

  “That sounds like a homo-erotic vampire flick. Seriously, what happened?” I said, wringing my hands.

  “I have already explained. You are vampire. Maybe,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and looking so very nonchalant. We could have been discussing weather or current affairs.

  “So you killed me?” I deadpanned.

  “Do you feel dead?” Dangerous smirked and slapped his stripper on the ass. The echo sounded through the room.

  “Ok, let’s say for the sake of argument that you are serious and I’m a baby vampire. Shouldn’t I be stark-raving mad, biting anything that moves, gorging myself on blood?” I still didn’t believe. Not at all. No way, no how.

  “That is the maybe part. You seem to have taken on some of the characteristics of vampirism, but not the more unsavory ones. I’ve never encountered this before, so I cannot explain it.”

  I sat there, my mouth slack. I could feel Morgan shiver against me. I placed my arm back around her instinctively and tried to ignore her flinch. She was scared again, but of me instead of them.

  “I don’t believe it. Prove it,” I said. “Do something Vampy.”

  Dangerous laughed and I shot him a cold look.

  Bette considered my challenge, and then crooked her finger at the stripper seated on the floor. She got up and climbed onto Bette’s lap, offering up her creamy skin. Bette traced the delineation of her neck, pressing down like one would do if checking for a pulse. She whispered something in the stripper’s ear and the girl went limp in Bette’s arms. Casting a glance at the velvet curtain to our room, Bette waved her hand at it, and the curtain stilled. I swear it looked more solid than it had ten seconds earlier.

  Slowly, tenderly, Bette pushed her lips against the girl’s skin, and I heard a low popping sound, like an oily bubble bursting. The stripper moaned and writhed as Bette latched on, drawing the blood into her mouth in long gulps. The moaning grew louder, cresting when the girl shuddered and went limp again. A dark spot spread across the peach fabric of her g-string.

  Bette pulled away from the girl and I could see a fine trail of blood in the corner of Bette’s pouty mouth. She licked the trace away with a flick of her tongue, stroked the girl’s hair and murmured to her for several minutes before the girl became more alert. When she had gathered herself up, Bette finally spoke aloud. “Is that proof enough for you Clara?”

  “Nope. All that proves is that you have some strange dietary restrictions. I’m sure there is a logical answer for that—like you’re missing a gene or something.”

  There was a term for that. Picarism. Or was that only for people who ate really weird shit like dirt or nickels? Did I really just infer that eating dirt was weirder than sucking blood? What was wrong with me?

  I was panicking, with a deep undercurrent of denial. If vampires were real, then I’d be forced to revisit my Boogeyman fear, and I didn’t even want to consider the Leprechauns. Those little buggers creeped me the hell out.

  Bette gave me a you-don’t-really-believe-that look and I averted my gaze. Morgan clung to me tighter and I could feel one of her hands snaking behind my back, clutching my rib cage. Her other hand was back up my skirt, resting close enough to my vagina that I could feel it twitch with anticipation. Even my body was going rogue.

  “You seem intelligent enough. You can’t possibly refute what you just saw,” said Dark, pushing the head of his stripper down south so he could look me in the eye.

  I felt the fight go out of me and it was more than a little depressing. “Okay, okay. It might be proof that you could possibly be what you say, uh, a vampire, but I think I’d know if I was one too. You didn’t bite me. I think I’d have noticed that.” I argued just because I wasn’t ready to believe just yet.

  “Yes, I did. Look for yourself.” Bette motioned to my lap, roughly where Morgan’s hand still sat. I felt myself twitch again, though I wasn’t sure if it was from Morgan’s hand or Bette focusing on the supposed location of my bite.

  I shook my head. No way was I going to hike up my skirt, spread my legs and look for a bite wound.

  “Clara, you must,” Bette prodded.

  “No, I most certainly do not,” I argued.

  “The champagne is getting warm. Please, just do it so we can celebrate,” Bette tried again.

  On a side note, how could she think I’d want to celebrate becoming one of the undead blood suckers? Really.

  “Um, thanks, but no,” I repeated.

  “Shall I help Claire bare her mark?” Dark said.

  China giggled, though the sound was muffled as her face was currently buried in moderate cleavage.

  “Oh, no!” I protested. “You’re not coming near me, slick.”

  “Pity. I might have enjoyed it,” Dark said.

  What an arrogant, self-absorbed ass. I was beginning to see that my instincts were spot on where he was concerned; he was the vampire to steer clear of if I could help it.

  Bette sighed and slid her stripper off of lap. “Clara...”

  Dangerous stood, holding up his hand to Bette, who fell silent at his interruption. Bette seemed unable to go against him. She watched him cross the carpeted floor, as did I, in silence.

  He was bigger than I’d realized. Not in a body-builder type of way, either. He looked like someone who was just born tough, and the tight black fitted tee only exacerbated the fear creeping up my throat. God, he could probably tear me in two. A chill crept along my spine. He stopped in front of me and looked to Morgan, who quickly peeled away from my side.

  “Look, I’m not going to show you anything either,” I said, biting my lip. I bit harder than I meant to and felt the stab of pain as my lip punctured. The tiny trickle of blood tasted heavenly though. Thoughts of my constant thirst returned to mind.

  “Shhh,” Dangerous said, kicking my feet apart with his boot. “Just hold still, so we can get it over with.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but my voice faltered. Looking into his chestnut eyes froze me and I could do nothing but watch as he knelt in front of me and ran his large, scarred hands up the outsides of my legs. He pushed my skirt up around my hips, revealing my bare thighs and the front of my underwear. Thank god I’d gone with black lace. If I’d been wearing granny-panties, I probably would have staked myself right there.

  Dangerous studied what little he could see for just long enough to make me squirm inside. I didn’t have any control over myself, so he had to be a vampire as well. It felt similar to the way I’d felt around Bette several times. Why had it taken me so long to realize she had some kind of power over me? I was such a fool.

  He placed a hand on the inside of each of my knees and pried my legs apart like he was resetting a bear trap. The cool air hit my exposed skin and my body tightened. I was scared, yes, but more than that I’d been teased and titillated one too many times that evening. So a slight breeze was enough to make me breathe a little faster.

  “It’s on the left,” Bette said coldly. I don’t think she liked the idea of Dangerous being that close to my goods either. “No, your left,” she clarified.

  Without finesse or tact, he pushed the fabric of my underwear aside to reveal the skin along my bikini line. I did not look. It was bad enough feeling his rough hands so close, close enough that it was triggering a set of mini-quakes down there, but I certainly didn’t want to see it. For all I knew, my entire snatch was out on display for everyone. Nope, no way was I looking.

  “Ah,” he said, running his fingers over two hard scabbed spots. “See here.”

  I was mortified, sitting there spread eagle for the whole room to see. But only Dangerous was looking at me. He was bent over, his face very close to the place where I was beginning to want him. God help me, I’d g
one from under-sexed housewife to nymphomaniac in a span of just a few days. It was like a switch had been flipped.

  He inhaled sharply. “She reeks of you, Elizabetta.”

  Dangerous pushed back from me abruptly and stood. I quickly lowered my gaze to my still-exposed lap. I prayed for a hole to open up in the floor so I could be sucked down into the pits of hell right then. I prayed for a strong shaft of sunlight to set me ablaze— I assumed that little factoid was true, but I hadn’t actually been in the direct sun, so I couldn’t be sure.

  Bette laughed a smooth, buttery sound. “He only means that I’ve marked you, Clara. I’m sure you smell delicious as always.”

  I don’t know if that made me feel better or not. “Thanks, I guess.”

  My arms seemed to be working again, so I used them to fix my clothing. Nobody was looking at me, so I ran my hands over the spot and felt the marks myself. They were the ones I’d noticed in the shower earlier. How could I have forgotten about that already?

  “So...” I said.

  “It is time to celebrate!” Bette said.

  She called Dark’s stripper over to the tray of waiting champagne. Bette took the girls wrist, whispered briefly in her ear, and brought the girl’s wrist up to her mouth. After a slight wet-popping sound, Bette held the girl’s bleeding wrist over each glass on the tray.

  The crimson liquid rained down and sunk to the bottom of each glass. Bette brought the girl’s wrist back to her mouth, licked it quickly and dismissed the girl.

  The stripper took a seat beside Dark, clearly dazed. At least she’d be able to go home at the end of the night and forget all about it. I, however, would probably remember the night for the rest of my life.

  However long that was.

  Chapter 14

  Bette delivered each glass of champagne to the rest of us, taking a moment to swirl the contents first. I watched as the dark and light circled each other in the glasses, before melding into something new altogether. She stood in the center of the room with her glass aloft. ”Tonight, old friends, we celebrate the birth of Clara, a vampire like no other we’ve known.”