The Nymphos of Rocky Flats

by Mario Acevedo

  Wendy locked the door. A loose blouse hung to her plump hips.

  "Your message on my voice mail was vague," I said. "I hope you have news about my investigation."

  "I've found something. Maybe it's useful. You decide." Wendy reached up to the closest shelf. The contours of her muscles showed where the blouse clung to her torso. She opened her day planner and unfolded a sheet of paper.

  Printed on the paper was a disjointed series of paragraphs that looked lifted from other documents. Certain words practically jumped at me, as if they had been highlighted with electricity. "Where'd you get this?"

  "People owe me favors. Your story about the nymphomania at Rocky Flats fascinated me. I wanted to see if it had happened before."

  I read her notes aloud. "The first outbreak was reported in1947. According to the Chaves County Health Department, five women in Roswell, New Mexico, succumbed to what they called heightened female sexual nervosa."

  "Nymphomania," Wendy interrupted.

  "I figured that. The second outbreak was recorded by Greene County, Ohio, health officials in 1952. Three women treated for heightened sexual nervosa."

  "Nymphomania," she interrupted again. "Just in case you forgot."

  "Fine. Thanks." The next dates startled me. "Two women treated for nymphomania in 1969. Here in Denver?"

  She motioned for me to sit on the cushions grouped around a coffee table. There weren't any chairs in the room. "Actually, it was in Jefferson County. There's not much more than that. The Department of Energy confiscated the records."

  DOE? How far back did this conspiracy go? "When did they confiscate the records?"

  "Shortly afterwards. In 1969."

  I settled into a cushion and rested my elbows on the coffee table as I reread the list. "What's the connection between all this?"

  She sat next to me. "You're the detective. You tell me."

  My eyes sifted through the words and searched for clues that would hook into my investigation. But at the moment, nothing. "It's interesting. Let me study it more." I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. "Thanks. Good work."

  Wendy got up and padded on bare feet toward the kitchen. "You're not too busy for drinks, are you?"

  In the time I've been a vampire, this was the first occasion a woman, even if she was a dryad, had asked me into her home for a visit. The sensual coziness surprised me. "Make it something special," I said.

  I settled into a big cushion, removed and put away my contacts. A dim pinkish aura washed over the plants. There was a ceramic water pitcher, a wash towel, and a flower vase on the table.

  Wendy returned holding a plastic cafeteria tray with a bottle of shiraz, a creamer, and two goblets, which didn't match. Her aura looked like transparent green glass. She set the tray on the table and sat cross-legged next to me. Wendy's naked feet had an inviting sexual allure. Her manicured toes added the notion of erotic preparation. My aura pulsed in anticipation.

  Wendy looked away. This made my aura brighten in annoyance. We supernaturals used our ability to read auras to outwit humans. Now this power betrayed me. I took a calming breath and let my aura smooth out.

  Wendy pushed the creamer toward me. "I got ewe's blood for you."

  I mixed it with my wine. The opaque blood turned the shiraz cloudy. "The myth is that ewe's blood and certain red wines enhance sexual potency."

  Wendy's green eyes sparkled. "Really?"

  Her teasing made my aura burn. Being the vampire, I was supposed to manipulate the woman.

  She pulled the scrunchy off and shook her head. The ponytail separated into luxurious curls.

  My aura burned brighter. I sipped the blood-wine cocktail. A coppery aftertaste slid down my throat.

  Smiling, she twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. "How many of the nymphomaniacs have you talked to?"

  "Three."

  Wendy tapped her foot against my ankle. "Did they try to seduce you?"

  "Actually, they did."

  "At the same time? Lucky you."

  "No, it wasn't like that."

  Wendy placed her hand on my knee. "Were any successful?"

  "No. There were difficulties."

  "Man problems?" Wendy held a finger out, then curled it.

  "There were no problems of that sort," I replied and masked my irritation at the suggestion. "What's this interest in nymphomania, anyway?"

  "What's not to find interesting?" Wendy sipped and then chuckled. "The idea of women shucking their panties and humping men—what a great image. It's hysterical."

  "Wasn't funny to the nymphos."

  "The ones you interviewed, they didn't enjoy themselves?"

  "I didn't say that."

  Wendy's cheeks dimpled. "So they did have fun?"

  "At a price, yes."

  Wendy brought her face to mine. "And what would the price be for me?"

  The price would be a good screwing. My desire percolated into lust. We kissed. I grasped her shoulders and pushed so that she rolled onto her back.

  Wendy resisted. "Wait."

  She unbuttoned my shirt and exposed my translucent vampire skin. "Felix"—she ran her mouth across my neck and collarbone—"can vampires get hickeys?"

  I didn't answer because I didn't know. We'd find out. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused on the touch of her lips.

  Wendy sat back and reached for the pitcher on the coffee table. She moistened the towel and dabbed my nose to remove the makeup and sunblock.

  "It doesn't look right for your face and hands to not match the rest of your body."

  The damp towel caressed me like a cool tongue. She held up my right hand and admired the veins pulsating within the sheath of my pale skin. My aura rippled where her fingers traced along my flesh.

  Wendy released my hand. She pulled the flower stems from the glass vase on the table. When she turned the vase around, I saw that it wasn't a vase but a bong. She retrieved a butane lighter and a small plastic bag from a drawer in the coffee table. When she opened the bag, the pungent odor of marijuana leaked out. Wendy crammed a wad of the pot into the small metal bowl of the bong.

  I tugged the tails of my shirt from my trousers. "Is this a way of connecting to your forest nature?"

  "Not really. It's about getting high and horny. You've been downing that ewe's blood cocktail and I wanted to catch up. Haven't you heard about the aphrodisiacal powers of ganja?"

  "I have. Aren't you afraid of a drug test at the hospital?"

  "I'm a dryad. I could drink vinegar and pee chardonnay if I wanted to."

  I glanced at my wine.

  "Don't worry. That came from the liquor store." Wendy aimed the blue flame of the lighter into the bowl. She sucked on the barrel of the bong and gurgled the water. The burning weed glowed orange. She held her breath and passed the bong to me.

  I took a big hit and immediately coughed.

  She exhaled a puff of smoke and giggled. "What the hell was that? Weren't you in the army?"

  "I haven't gotten toasted since I've been a vampire." I tried again, taking shallow breaths.

  Wendy took the bong and inhaled several more hits. Her aura took on a creamy haze. It changed from green to yellow, then orange and finally red, like a human's.

  I blinked to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. "What was that?"

  "Marijuana, like a lot of other drugs, causes your spiritual center to shift from chakra to chakra."

  My own aura darkened from orange to red. My center of gravity sank from my chest to my groin, as if it were an elevator, going down. My head became light and a warm sensation swelled into my crotch.

  Wendy watched and nodded. "I like what's happening to you."

  And so did I. "But the yellow aura. The only time I've seen that before was when I questioned the nymphos under hypnosis."

  Wendy closed her eyes. Tendrils of smoke drifted from the corners of her smile. "Perhaps the nymphomania is rooted in spiritual displacement."

  My center of gravity floated upward i
nto my torso. I set my hand on the floor to steady myself. My aura turned orange again. "Maybe there's a level of psychic awareness between the planes that vampires and dryads occupy. A different type of supernatural. Not with an orange or a green aura, but yellow."

  Wendy grinned, her eyes remaining closed. "Hmmm. What could that be?"

  She blew smoke rings and relaxed against a big cushion. Her aura changed again, like a liquid jewel turning different hues. Tiny rosebuds in all colors sprouted among the curls of her hair.

  Was there no limit to her surprises? A euphoric numbness muted my senses. My heart matched the tempo of the music seeping through me. The sexual tension grew into a thirst I had to quench with her body.

  Her hooded eyes pulled with a magnetic power. I set my arms alongside her head and lowered my face to kiss her. My orange aura curled through the air, like a flame.

  The scent of a thousand blossoms swirled around us. Her warm lips found mine. I pushed away to reposition my hands so I could unbutton her blouse. The roses in her hair had grown into a crown. Wendy plucked a red blossom and fed it to me.

  The petals disintegrated between my teeth, leaving a taste I could only describe as a mood. Passion. "If this is what grew from your head, I'm wondering what's waiting between your legs."

  She nipped my chin. "You'll have to pluck that one yourself."

  Wendy peeled off her blouse and revealed small, enticing breasts. She wrapped her arms around me and whispered. "Did you bring protection?"

  The question broke the mood as it always does. "You're supernatural, why would you need protection?"

  Wendy relaxed against the cushion and propped up on an elbow. "Because there's lots of nasty bugs that even I can't defend myself against. No offense to you. The only souvenirs I want from this afternoon are good memories." She pointed to an end table. "There's protection in there."

  Awkwardly, trying to act both nonchalant and romantic about looking for condoms, I opened the drawer, looked inside, and hesitated. "Don't take this wrong, but there might be a problem."

  Wendy shimmied out of her jeans and red bikini panties. "Aren't there any?"

  I lifted a packet. "Oh, there's plenty. Problem is, they're all supermagnum triple-extra-large."

  Wendy raised an eyebrow. "And the problem?"

  "There's no problem for me but I don't mean to disappoint…"

  "Oh," Wendy gasped, "I get what you mean. Those were from an old boyfriend. He was big down there, really big. Whew." She held her hands apart as if she were describing a trophy catch. "The guy belonged in a zoo."

  "Thanks for sharing." Nothing like the mention of an old flame and his humongous wanger to cool my ardor, even if I am a vampire. "Was he a supernatural, too?"

  Wendy took the condom and dropped it back into the drawer. "No, human. He was an intern from the hospital. It was purely physical."

  Physical. Like that was supposed to make me feel better. I was a vampire, a notorious king of seduction. How the hell was I being upstaged by a mortal?

  Wendy rummaged in the drawer and found a regular-sized condom. "After a while the novelty wore off, and we called it quits. No big deal. Except for that, I mean. A penis that size was quite a find. Made for some great visuals in the mirror."

  Oh, trample my ego some more. My orange aura sizzled with jealousy at the image of Wendy gleefully impaling herself on that meat missile.

  Wendy sprawled her naked body across the cushions and hugged me. "Why don't you direct some of that emotion in my direction and give me a good banging? Where's this Latin machismo I've heard so much about? And you're a vampire. My first. You should have me pinned to the floor already."

  She rubbed her neck against my face. The sensation of her blood surging through juicy veins only millimeters beneath her skin inflamed my desire. My fangs grew. I'd show her a vampire.

  We rolled on the cushions to smooch and fumble until I was naked too.

  "Fang me," she groaned and arched her neck back.

  I dragged the tips of my elongated incisors against the tender skin of her throat. I'd pierce her skin but not drink the blood.

  Wendy's aura flashed bright, like an alarm. Finally I had her libido on full burner. She would forget all about Moby Dick.

  She pushed me off and sat up. The roses scattered from her hair. "Someone's at the back door."

  Wooden steps creaked faintly. So it wasn't my prowess that had set off her aura. Could it be vânätori de vampir?

  Adrenaline pumped into my muscles and prepared me for a fight. I yanked my trousers on, stood, and went through the kitchen to the back door. Suddenly modest, Wendy pulled on her blouse and crept behind me.

  The silhouette of a man darkened the curtain on the door. He raised an arm.

  I pushed Wendy back. Our feet tangled, and we toppled over.

  The window glass exploded. A clay jar on a kitchen shelf shattered and sprayed us with flour.

  A gloved hand reached through the broken window and fumbled with the doorknob.

  I rolled away from Wendy. She placed her hands and feet against the wall and climbed up. I sprang to the ceiling, attempting to cling and haul my body upward where I could surprise the attacker from above.

  But my fingertips couldn't hold and I dropped to the floor. This vampire power failed me again. Instead I crouched, my legs flexed and readied to propel me forward. My fangs jutted out. I'd strike at his face, blind him, and then rip open his throat. Gun or no gun, our attacker was about to die.

  The door lock released. The door swung open.

  Chapter 22

  THE INSTANT I SAW the intruder block the open doorway, I zapped him with my vampire glare.

  Dark wraparound sunglasses shielded his eyes.

  Damn, I couldn't hypnotize him.

  I took a mental snapshot.

  A red aura blazing like the fire from a rocket nozzle surrounded his hefty bulk. Tall, easily six-four. A big man who knew how to use his muscles. Black leather jacket. A head like a rectangular hunk of stone topped with short, wiry blond hair.

  Was he the same gunman who had chased me into the ditch with an M16? And the guy who broke into my apartment and whacked me on the head? How did he know I was here? Was he stalking me? Who did he work for?

  Wendy tucked herself next to the overhead cabinets above me, like a moth trying to hide.

  He shifted his weight to one side. The afternoon sunlight burst around him and flooded the kitchen to scald my naked torso.

  I stumbled backwards toward the counter and clutched the air in pain. Through tearing eyes, I glimpsed the long barrel of a silencer jerk toward me. A plastic bag covered the pistol, a professional killer's trick to catch ejected casings.

  I knocked over a row of bottles on the counter. Instinctively, I snatched one bottle and blindly hurled it at the gunman. He ducked when the glass bottle shattered against the doorframe by his head and splashed olive oil. His pistol fired. A bullet tore into the ceiling. Wendy flinched. Flakes of plaster rained down.

  Fumbling with the next bottle, I threw it wildly and smashed it on the floor between his feet to make him dance as vinegar doused his legs.

  I clutched the next bottle and knocked loose the glass stopper. The liquid splashed on my skin and burned like acid. The pungent odor of garlic oil stung my nose. I yelped and jumped back.

  A bullet gouged the countertop inches from my hand.

  Desperately, I grabbed another small round bottle and cocked my arm.

  "Not that one," Wendy shouted.

  Too late. My arm whipped around and the bottle shot from my hand. The bottle struck above the door and sprayed the gunman with liquid that immediately turned into a white cloud of vapor.

  The spikes of the gunman's aura blunted and writhed, signaling his confusion. His pistol trembled. He teetered against the doorjamb, fired again and missed.

  A fine mist from the vapor settled on my skin and soothed the burning pain. An intense sweet flowery smell overcame me. Dizzy, I leaned against the counte
r to keep from falling over.

  Wendy groaned in disbelief and floated to the floor.

  The sunglasses couldn't hide the alarm in the gunman's expression. The spikes of his aura became short and dense like fuzz. His posture relaxed. He smiled, a wide slash of big teeth.

  The gunman walked toward me, holding his left hand up to reach for my face.

  I wanted to shrink away from him but didn't. From the depths of my confusion, I felt the swoon of anticipation.

  His thick fingers clasped the back of my neck. He pulled me forward tenderly. Wrinkles and tiny pockmarks marred his complexion, yet I found him irresistible. His smile condensed as his lips pressed together. Our lips barely touched.

  Droplets rained on my skin. Immediately my desire turned into mortification. The face which seconds ago seemed handsome now repulsed me. Both the gunman and I shoved each other away.

  He squeezed his tongue between his teeth as if to scrape away any taste of me.

  Likewise, I wiped my mouth in disgust. More droplets drizzled onto my skin. Wendy worked the trigger of a small brass spritzer to mist the gunman and me. As my skin absorbed the droplets, my revulsion intensified.

  The gunman retched and staggered out of the kitchen doorway and onto the back porch. "Next time, Felix," he yelled. "Next time."

  He lurched toward a wooden gate at the far end of the small yard. I lost my would-be assassin in the dazzle of the afternoon sun. A car door slammed in the alley. The sudden squeal of tires meant someone had been waiting for him.

  Wendy set the spritzer on the counter and didn't move until the sound of the car faded. She tiptoed over the broken glass on the floor, seemingly unaffected by the lingering vapor. She pushed the kitchen door closed and pulled the curtain tight over the window. The darkened room calmed and soothed me.

  I slid against the counter cabinet until I rested on the floor. Spots danced across my vision. "What the hell happened?"

  "You threw a bottle of love potion. That's what saved you." She raked her fingers through her tresses, now stringy and oily. "You can see what it does to my hair."