Dracula’s Crypt

“Let’s start in Dracula’s crypt.”

Neither Jonathon nor Steve look happy. You smile inwardly. It serves them right for being dicks.

You take the lead stepping into Dracula’s crypt and giving your suitors a wonderful view of your ass.

The floor is cobblestone, the walls are massive stone blocks. In the center is a black lacquered coffin with a large, red, D on top.

As if sensing your presence, a pale hand slides out from inside. The coffin lid creaks as it slowly opens.

A man rises from the coffin as though he were on a hinge. You are left breathless. He is gorgeous. He is meticulously dressed in an old fashioned suit. His hair is coal black, his features are chiseled. His eyes bore into you with hunger and desire.

He makes your dates look plain by comparison. He holds out his hand beckoning you. You want to see him up close. It takes all your willpower not to run to him.

As you get close to him he smiles, showing movie star white teeth and the expected fangs. You have never met a man with such confidence.

You take his hand. You are surprised by how cold it is. He pulls you into an embrace and wraps you in his cape.

You hear your suitors yell. “Heather?”

You ignore them as this perfect man kisses your neck with icy lips. You feel lightheaded as he continues his kiss. If it didn’t feel so good you’d be worried about a hickey.

Sadly the kiss ends. He runs a sharp fingernail across his tongue then pulls you into a kiss. He tastes sweet, salty, and metallic.

“Heather!”

The voices are louder and closer.

He breaks the kiss and looks into your eyes.

Show your friends my brides!

It’s like his voice is in your head.

He unwraps you and falls back into the coffin, the lid closing behind him.

Jonathon and Steven rush to your side.

“Are you ok, Heather?” They intone in unison.

You smile at them. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your neck.” Says Jonathon.

You touch it and your finger is damp. You look at it and is covered with blood. It fascinates you. It is is so red, so shiny. The smell is intoxicating. You want to taste it.

“I’m fine Jonathon. His clasp must have cut me.”

“We should go.” Steven grumbles.

“Not before we see the brides I hope?”