Authors: Jessica Miller
The woman doesn’t notice me. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back. Upon closer inspection I see that he’s brushing his teeth against the skin of her neck, but he hasn’t bitten down.
His teeth
are
sharp. Their points glisten and flash in the dancing lights of the club, and every so often he presses them down harder against her skin. But he never breaks the skin. His eyes are closed as well and he pulls the girls back against him.
Suddenly he opens his eyes, immediately seeing me before them. There is recognition in his eyes—he remembers me. But he doesn’t do anything. He simply stares at me as he continues to sway to the beat, mouth latched onto this woman’s neck and hands running up and down her curves.
I don’t break eye contact. I stare at him intently and he stares back at me. Eventually another man comes up behind me, leaning down to whisper in my ear and ask me to dance. I consent and turn around to face him, bringing his face down to mine.
I can feel the man from last night’s eyes boring into my back. I sway seductively, letting the pounding beat of the music take over my body.
Eventually the new man spins me around again, wanting to dance back-to-front. I oblige. He’s still staring at me, no longer kissing the woman’s neck. He simply holds her tightly to him as he watches me move.
Finally, I become impatient. I want this man. I want him to dance with
me,
not some other woman. I want to feel those same sensations from last night, because the buffoon dancing on me right now is doing nothing for me. I bring a hand up to my hair, tangling it in the thick locks before drawing it aside from where it has been shielding my neck. I look into his eyes and bite my lip, turning my head aside so that he can see the soft flesh of my throat.
That does the trick. By the time I look back at him he’s already shaking himself free of the other girl, flashing her a hurried smile and nod before making his way over to me. She doesn’t seem to mind, she simply resumes dancing by herself with a group of girls who must be her friends.
I step away from the man behind me, but he keeps a grip on my waist. I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh. I’m not in the mood for this right now, that’s for sure. I turn around to deal with him, but find myself being dragged backwards by wanting hands. The other guy lets go of me with a begrudging look.
I look up over my shoulder to see him. He’s staring down at me with hunger in his eyes. We begin dancing immediately, his hands roving all over my body.
“Fancy seeing you here again,” he whispers in my ear, sending violent shivers down my spine. My body actually twitches in his arms, and he lets out a low laugh, warm breath fanning against the skin of my neck. I think again of the way his mouth felt on me.
“I wanted to find you again,” I whisper back, turning my face so that I’m speaking in his ear. “I wanted to know if last night was real.”
“Whatever do you mean?” His voice sounds delicious so close to my ear.
“The way you made me feel,” I say, my breath hitching in my chest as memories flood my mind. “What you
did
to me.”
“Hmmm . . .” he lets out a guttural hum which vibrates from his throat as he brushes his lips against my neck. I shiver again and I feel his lips curve up into a smile. “You want me to do to you what I did last night? You want it again?”
“Yes,” I gasp, feeling the tremors running through my body. “I want it.”
He lets out a laugh this time, and I nearly go wild with lust. “Alright. As you command.”
He hardly waits to get into it. He presses the points of his teeth against my skin, waiting mere moments before sinking them into my flesh. We’re in the middle of the dance floor still. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. This is so open, so
public
. There are people dancing mere feet away, swaying to the beat and kissing and sweating.
But they’re all too preoccupied with their own activities to notice the strange thing happening so close by. And I’m too quickly overcome by the ecstasy of his bite to worry about them for long. Within moments my head is lolling back again, my eyes closed and my breath coming slow and shallow. Lights and stars burst behind my eyelids, and I feel myself floating up towards the ceiling.
It ends too quickly again. I let out a low moan and grasp onto his shirt, turning around to face him.
“Don’t stop,” I pant, finding it difficult to focus on his face. Everything seems to be swimming around me, floating and fuzzy. “I want more.”
He shakes his head, or at least I think he does. “I can’t. You’ve reached your limit, darling.”
“What does that mean?” I say, realizing vaguely that my words are slurring together.
“That means if I continue,” he leans closer, tracing a finger down her jawline. “You’ll die.”
I shudder involuntarily. A smile curls across my lips. “What a wonderful way to die.”
He throws back his head in laughter, shoulders quaking. “You’re quite the interesting one, you know,” he purrs in my ear once he’s collected himself.
“Can you tell me what you are?” I whisper, dragging a hand down his chest. “You’re clearly not a normal, boring man. You’re something else. Something interesting.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” he says shortly, suddenly growing grim. “Not something you’d care for, I’m sure.”
“Oh, don’t be that way,” I moan, gripping onto his shirt even tighter. I pull myself towards him but he pulls away. “You’re magnificent. Tell me.”
“I need to leave, love,” he says, scanning the crowd around us. “Really, I do. Maybe I’ll run into you again. So long as you haven’t got any more of these silly questions.”
Before I can say another word, he grips my hands in his and pulls them away from him as if fending off an infant. And then he disappears into the crowd. I try to follow him but he’s well and truly gone, and I am left in the mass of people helpless and disappointed.
I head home early that night, having no interest in dancing with the other men. They cannot do for me what that man did. No drugs or alcohol can parallel it, even.
I arrive home and am just getting into bed when I notice something on my nightstand. A rectangular piece of paper, facedown. I stare at it for a moment, perplexed, before remembering the previous night. It’s the object I picked up off the bathroom floor. I’d completely forgotten about it until now.
I pick it up and turn it over. It’s a business card.
Damien Carmino. Accountant.
There’s a phone number and address below his name, and for a moment I can do nothing but stare at the little square of paper and the little words inked on its front in awe. Could it possibly be
his?
Could this be my way of finding him again?
I lunge across the bed towards my laptop and turn it on. One quick Google search later and I’ve confirmed it . . . I’ve found my guy. His face stares up at me from the glowing laptop screen, just as alluring and beautiful as in person.
I know what I’m going to do.
*****
The next morning, I give his office a call and make an appointment. Lucky for me, one of Damien’s clients for the day cancelled last minute, and they can squeeze me in right after lunch. I spend my remaining hours obsessing over my appearance, primping and doing my makeup over and over again. Finally I settle on an acceptable hairstyle and outfit, getting out the door just in time.
I get to the office ten minutes before my appointment. The secretary takes my name and tells me Damien will be with me soon. So I sit, and I wait.
“Danielle Robineau?”
The secretary calls me back up after about fifteen minutes of waiting. I jump up and shuffle forwards.
“Damien will see you now.” She nods towards the door to my right, and I tentatively approach it. I open it slowly and step inside. At first I am too fearful to raise my eyes, but when I do I find him staring at me from across his desk.
“Funny seeing you here,” he finally says, his voice guarded. He narrows his eyes at me and I squirm uncomfortably in my chair. “How did you find me?”
“You dropped your business card.” I fish it out of my pocket, holding it up so he can see. “I had to come see you. I know it seems creepy.”
Damien cracks a smile, shaking his head ruefully. “You’re quite the resourceful little lady, aren’t you?”
“Well, you wouldn’t give me any information!” I protest. “I couldn’t stop thinking and wondering about you. It was driving me insane.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he says with a shrug. “My life is my own concern, not yours. And besides, if I told you about myself you wouldn’t believe me. Even if you did believe me, you’d be so frightened you’d run for the hills.”
I scoff at this. “You’ve bitten into my neck and drank my blood twice, and I’m still here. What makes you think some silly words will send me running?”
“You never know.” He stares at me intently, not elaborating.
“I have suspicions,” I say after a moment. “But they seem foolish.”
“And what are those suspicions?” he inquires. I stare at him silently for a moment and he smiles. “Don’t worry, this is a no-judgement zone.”
“You’re a vampire.”
My words hang in the air, both of us staring each other down as if in some sort of face-off. Finally he cracks a grin again, and lets out a low laugh.
“You would be correct.”
I gape at him. Correct? He just said I’m right—that he is, in fact, a vampire? I mean, all the signs point towards it, no normal person would enjoy drinking the blood of others on a regular basis . . . but still, vampires are fictitious. They’re just stories, told to excite and incite fear. Yet here he is, claiming to be one. In the flesh.
“What?” I manage to sputter out.
“You’re right,” he says slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. “I am a vampire. I’m not going to lie to you, now that you’ve so boldly guessed.”
“What you do is amazing,” I say, remembering his teeth against my neck. “Those feelings you give, they’re better than any high I’ve ever had.”
“It feels even better on my end,” he says, giving me a devilish smirk and a wink. “Believe me.”
“Better?” I can hardly believe anything can feel better than the sensations he gives me. But if that’s true . . . I want to feel it. “How can I feel that?”
“You can’t,” he says, looking at me with a searching eye. “Not unless you’re a vampire.”
“Then I want to become one!” I say quickly. My heart is thumping in my chest. “I want to be like you.”
“That’s a very serious request,” he says slowly. “It’s a very difficult thing, to become one of us. You have to be committed. You’ve known about me for two days. That’s hardly commitment. You’re simply excited.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” I snap, eyes flashing wildly. “I know what I want. I’ve always known what I wanted. And I want this.”
He rubs his chin thoughtfully, staring at me for a moment. Then he lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in his chair.
“Come by my home this evening. I want you to see more of my life, and perhaps I can drink from you again.” He smirks at this, sending my stomach in knots of anticipation. “You can also meet another vampire, a man I live with. Then we’ll see how eager you are for this change.”
He gives me the address and bids me farewell. I leave his office with weak knees and a fluttering stomach, just thinking of what’s to come.
*****
I show up at his home around 6 P.M. I purposefully left my apartment early, at around 5:15, and thankfully so. I ended up getting lost and had to backtrack at least twice before finding his home.
It’s an immense mansion, surrounded by other equally as big homes. It’s clearly a rich neighborhood, and I felt out of place and inadequate just driving down their streets. Never could I dream of having a house like this. It’s just not possible.
I park my car in their wide, long driveway and scamper up to the front door. I knock on the door nervously.
Moments later, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. I straighten out my shirt and pat down my hair in a last minute attempt to look presentable. The door opens, and I’m faced with someone new.
A different man stands before me, not Damien. For a moment I panic, thinking I’ve walked up to the wrong house. But then he gives me a wide smile and I remember Damien mentioning having a roommate. This must be him.
“You must be Danielle,” he says, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter. “Welcome to our home. It doesn’t see guests often, so you’re a welcome surprise.”
“Thank you,” I say nervously, giving him a smile. “You’re Damien’s roommate?”
“Yes,” he says. “My name is Christopher. We’ve been friends for a long time, we go way back.”
“That’s nice,” I say, slowly staring to feel more comfortable in Christopher’s presence. He looks nothing like Damien, but that have the same air about them. They carry themselves in the same way. Christopher has wavy brown hair and pale skin. His eyes are a strange, ambiguous color that I can't quite make out. Sometimes they look blue, sometimes grey, and sometimes even green.
When he smiles, I can just make out the sharp points of his teeth.