Read Hungry for Your Love: An Anthology of Zombie Romance Online
Authors: Lori Perkins
I heard the soft clink of our keys as they sprawled among the others. While Dan and the hostess talked, Jeff led me silently to the far corner where there was a much wider selection of cocktails. “What’ll it be?” he asked with a smile.
God, he was gorgeous. There was no doubt about it. Watching him lean back casually on the bar and shoot me that grin, I felt a sudden compulsion to discover what his lips would taste like, what his skin would taste like. I didn’t know what I wanted exactly, but he just seemed so alive. I felt drawn to him reflexively, like a night creature to a flame.
Yet I resisted the instinct to devour him right then and there. Instead, I tried to focus my energy elsewhere, mulling over the simple question of what to order. I decided to take a chance. “Surprise me,” I said coyly, and he liked that answer. I could tell.
“Absolutely, Lucy,” he said, brushing my arm with his hand. I felt satisfaction with that light lingering sensation. A slight touch from his skin seemed to alert me to a basic need I had been neglecting, like someone dying of thirst startled to feel a drop of water soak into his tongue. For the first time in a long while, I was being flirtatious—I was being flirted
with
—and I soaked it up eagerly.
I glanced back at Dan and saw him laughing with Jessica. Good. I was glad he wasn’t watching this. Jeff stepped close to me and raised a heavy glass filled with liquid.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Special recipe,” he answered. He had doled it out from the punch bowl behind him. One thing was certain—this concoction was deceptively drinkable, yet strong. A girl could be embalmed with stuff only slightly more potent. As we talked, I reached up and tried to smooth my hair down. I was sure I looked frightful. Coming here, Dan and I had 269
walked through a light rain. I knew my hair had frizzed by now into an uncontrollable shape. I could picture my mass of dark unruly hair and what it might look like. I had done my best, carefully blow-drying it into smooth sections tonight, but on an evening as humid as this, it was no use. I could only do so much to mask my true nature.
Jeff saw what I was doing as I fidgeted with my curls. He was in the middle of another story, but he stopped and caught my hand. “No, don’t,” he said seriously. “Your hair. I love it just like that.” I gave him a disbelieving sideways look. “No, really,” he said. “It makes you look fearless. Like a wild thing.”
I shook my hair then and laughed out loud. “Well, thank you . . . I think,” I said in an amused voice. We looked at one another and the moment lingered, as if both of us were expecting more to happen. We were hovering close. But of course there could be nothing more. No kiss. After all, our spouses were only at the other end of this very room. “Of, course . . . maybe just a nibble,” I considered, as I eyed his neck.
Jeff ended the quiet stalemate by putting his fingers over mine and gripping my glass. “Refill your drink?” he asked, and I nodded. I hoped my host didn’t notice the rolling whites of my eyes as my gaze moved around the room, hungrily examining the guests. For a second, I considered asking one of them to dance, but I quickly reconsidered. My limbs were too stiff. In my post-mortem state, I was far from coordinated. Besides, who knew what might happen if I got that too close to one of these people? It would be a little hard to continue to blend in if guests started to lose their limbs.
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It startled me when a man stepped up behind me. He rested an arm around my shoulders, and I lowered my new glass from my lips, trying not to spill it. The man leaned in close. “Hi, honey,” he said.
I smiled at my husband. I also took a step away from Jeff, trying to make it look like the two of us hadn’t gotten quite so cozy. But Dan didn’t seem to notice. Jessica sauntered over a split second later. “So,” she said, her eyes darting over the two men and me, “Having any fun tonight?”
We nodded and she sparked up another long cigarette. The party was at full tilt by that time. Jessica launched into a story about her new house that set me giggling for the first time in years, and Dan squeezed my shoulder, his body resting close to mine. He was laughing, too. I knew both of us were enjoying ourselves.
At that moment, though, I also caught Jessica looking into my husband’s eyes just a moment too long. She touched his arm as she made another joke, and I didn’t know what to think. But try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to feel offended. The truth was, he was enjoying the attention from this couple and so was I. My husband always made it clear he loved me dearly. He was absolutely crazy about me—and I about him—but it was nice to feel wanted by someone new. It was nice to feel the dizziness of excitement as we talked to strangers who desired us. I remembered a time when we were dating that Dan and I felt like this all the time. I wondered if we could find a way to get that back, or if all of our quiet evenings alone would continue to feel dead.
Just then, Jessica noticed several guests preparing to leave. Despite the loud chatter and boisterous dancing from some couples present, it was getting very late in the 271
evening. She excused herself with a smile, and a small nod toward Dan, and made her way over to the door with her husband in tow.
By that point, Dan and I were already glowing. After several drinks and more flirtatious glances than we’d enjoyed in years, there was definitely more than a little flush to our cheeks. We turned to one another and shared a feeling of disbelief at the way this evening was shaping up. And the night was still young.
The music came to a sudden halt. Every head at the party immediately lifted, scanning the room for the source of the interruption. It was Jessica they found standing by the stereo, her hand raised to request everyone’s attention.
“Well,” she said confidently. “The time has come for some of us to leave.” She looked toward the group of people standing ready by the front door. “Yes,” she said. “It’s time for us to go our separate ways . . . but I do hope some of us have made some new friends.” As she said this last part, she looked at two people near her who were kissing.
The woman giggled back at Jessica’s remark. “And now,” she announced. “My husband will take over from here.”
All eyes turned to Jeff who had taken his place by the large bowl of keys. I watched him as he spoke, draining some more of my drink and thinking about how perfect he looked standing there in that collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up.
It was only as I began to sense emotion from my husband standing beside me that Jeff’s words began to register. This was a swingers party.
Good Lord
, I thought.
When
Jessica asked me how long I had been ‘in the lifestyle,’ I thought she was talking about
commuting to the city!
It was clear now what was going to happen. The men at the party 272
would all draw keys from the bowl—and spend tonight with the woman who matched them.
Suddenly, I felt bewildered. I could feel Dan tensing up beside me, as well. This was unlike anything I had ever gotten mixed up in before. Yet, all the same, I couldn’t stop myself from looking around the room and thinking about the possibilities. I felt a smile creep across my face as I noticed Dan looking, too. Secretly, I was thankful he hadn’t left the moment all of this began. Far from it. In fact, he was watching all of this unfold as breathlessly as I was.
Every man at the party took their turn, starting with the group by the door.
Eventually, the host himself reached into the bowl and came out holding a set of keys held together with a small silver bird. The key ring was mine. Unmistakably. I would recognize it anywhere. A hush fell over the party as he held them up and no one stepped forward to claim them.
Our host knew whom they belonged to, though. When there was no response, Jeff turned and looked at me. He stared me down, and I knew this pairing hadn’t happened by chance. He had picked my keys deliberately.
I was sure that secretly my husband loved the idea of going through with something as bold as this. He was longing to pair up with someone at the party and have a wild night alone, just as I was. He was longing to sate himself with any piece of lively untasted flesh he saw here. So was I. But I also knew he couldn’t do anything—couldn’t even pretend to entertain the idea—until I expressed an interest first.
In a way, there was nothing else I could do. I stepped forward and claimed my keys, taking my place beside our host. My palms felt hot and sweaty, and I realized I 273
couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this alive. This was the nervousness of a first date, the blush of a first kiss, and a hunter’s resolve all wrapped into one. I watched nervously as my husband and the other men drew keys, but mostly I was thinking about the stranger beside me. Tonight, I would find out how his body felt as I bent it into shapes he had never considered. I would find out how he tasted. As I thought about the possibilities, I could barely stand to wait.
The house emptied quickly. I nodded to Dan as he left. Even Jessica decided to go out with her partner instead of staying in. So in the end we were all alone. The two of us turned the stereo on again, and this time we danced. Our dance was slow, and the two of us didn’t speak at all. I curled my arm around the back of his neck. The gorgeous stranger kissed me. And then he said he wanted more.
So I indulged him.
My response was primal. It was urgent. As our kiss lingered, I ran my fingernails hard down his back. I watched him flinch and saw blood on my palm. Then I reached for him, and I didn’t hold back. I nibbled at his ear, tasting him in that one delicious spot for now—but eventually I knew I would move on to more vital areas. Jeff was already unbuttoning his pants, expecting me to focus there at any moment, but I had other plans first.
I was determined to find out what was in that head of his . . .one way or another.
Did he like me at all? Maybe now I could pick his brain and find out.
Jeff’s brains. And they were all mine. Now my fantasy really was coming true. As I gave into my hunger, I wondered if Dan had found someone as satisfying.
* * * *
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That morning, I didn’t linger. I took a few swallows of coffee and pulled on my clothes. I looked at the aftermath of the night before and smiled at the impressive mess we had left behind. I wanted to lie playfully back down on the rumpled sheets and tumble there again, remembering the delicious flesh of abs and shoulder blades and thighs I had indulged in the night before. Yet even if last night had been an incredible adventure, I knew this was not where I wanted to be.
I knew what I needed, and I knew who I loved. I whispered a happy goodbye to the body resting on the bed, then made my way back over to the house next door. I raised a hand in front of my eyes and squinted into the orange slant of morning sun as I walked.
This time, every step on the way felt light. I was giddy. Girlish, even.
I pulled out the ring of keys and twisted one in the lock. Only seconds later, before I had even closed the door behind me, Dan burst inside. We smiled at each other with excited knowing grins, like two cats ready to pounce.
Dan and I had been stumbling through life as the living dead, but now we felt revitalized. He kissed me right there, hugging me close and lifting me enthusiastically off the floor. When he pulled away, I could see red on his mouth.
Was that lipstick?
I wondered. But it didn’t matter. He walked me down the hall quickly. My dress was unzipped before we even reached the bedroom door. He tossed me onto the bed like a shopping bag filled with new toys. I squirmed and watched him eagerly as he quickly stripped off his tie, my eyes asking him for more.
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He sprang forward then, pinning me with his body, and we both had much more fun struggling for the prime position on top than we had ever had avoiding it. Eventually, he pushed his way inside, and I balled my hands into fists. He rolled roughly on top of me and held my wrists just above my head.
We had been reminded of what we wanted from one another, and now we seized it. We weren’t zombies anymore. As he kissed me back, I knew it was true. All we craved was something spontaneous. All we had needed in this relationship was some new blood.
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Last Times at Ridgemont High
by Kilt Kilpatrick
For one beautiful moment, I thought I’d walked in on the beginnings of a sex party right there in the teacher’s lounge. Mrs. Hastings, the Home Ec Teacher, lay stretched out on the table, back arched and stylish skirt scrunched up around her waist, while Principal Caruthers enthusiastically buried his face into her lap, wrestling with her sleek pantyhosed legs. At the other end of the table her pretty T.A., Ms. Foster, held her in a tight embrace and nuzzled the nape of her neck. Mrs. Hastings writhed and gasped as the young blonde pawed her sweater and ran her hands through the older woman’s hair for better purchase on her neck and throat. Mrs. Hastings made soft noises as her resistance failed, and she gave up altogether trying to push Ms. Foster away.
Then the moment of wishful thinking passed, and my perception of the scene flipped inside out like a trick of origami. The wonderful retro swinging ’70s orgy I thought I was seeing vanished, and I realized what was really happening. It got ugly so fast; the next moment all blood and horrible gobbling noises and poor, poor Mrs.
Hastings. I think I must’ve made some choked sound of horror, because Principal Caruthers and Ms. Foster instantly looked up from their lunch break and spotted me.
Their mouths and teeth were stained with blood and sticky twists of half-chewed flesh, and their eyes were an eerie dead-fish-belly white. They let out a ghoulish keening screech that grated on my hackles like the awful shriek of a coffin nail pulled out by a claw hammer. And before I knew it, they had abandoned the remains of Mrs. Hastings and closed in on me. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
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