Dreams of fur - chapter 2

I'm breathless. Not that I haven't had complicated customers before. In this kind of trade half of the customers can be considered complicated and the other half is plain pain in the ass.

No, what left me with my jaw halfway through the floor is a thing I saw on the man's neck. A thing you usually get to see in movies, not in real life: a bite mark, a small half circle of normal sized upper jaw teeth marks finishing on each side with two deep wounds, small and round, covered with encrusted blood, a peculiar bite mark, the bite mark of a vampire...

Do you remember that I told you that Carpathians and wolves were a thing for me, right? Well, maybe it's time we talk about it. It's always hard to say this, even to myself... but I have this vampire fetish, I've had it all my life, or at least since I was old enough to have fetishes. I dig them...

My ex, Mike, had this pair of a bit oversized incisors- nothing supernatural mind you, but, damn, they did made me hot. I loved to kiss him just to touch them with my tongue. When I kissed him, I always hoped that he would tilt my head and sink them in my neck. He never did...

What do you want, this is real life, there aren't vampires running around. Or are there?

No that's bullshit; this is California, Lala land; Hollywood is just a few miles away; that man must have been an actor between takes or something...

Suddenly I realize that I've been caressing the fur for the last minute or so. I stuff it back in the bag, I leave the bag in the back and, planning on talking about it to my uncle as soon as he gets in, I go back behind the counter waiting for the next customer to arrive.

But when he gets in, around twelve, I'm taking care of a customer, when I get rid of the pompous bitch that was "just browsing", it's his turn to be taking care of someone else, and so forth until I completely forget about the bag.

I leave work around four. As I walk back to the car my uncle lent me, I realize that the bag with the pelt is in my hand. I don't even remember picking it up.

For a moment I want to turn around and give it back, but something stops me. After all, there's no reason why I shouldn't keep it, the man wanted to throw it away, in a sense it's as if I had found it, in a sense this pelt is mine.

All the way back to my uncle's home the coat on my back seat occupies my every thought. Each time I stop at a traffic light I have to put my hand in the bag to feel the supremely soft hair of the dead Carpathian wolf.

The coat is quite amazing; when I touch it, a warm electric feeling runs through my fingers. It's highly erotic. My mind is so clouded with it that I nearly run an old man over. When finally I arrive home, all I can think of is locking myself in my room with the pelt.

"G'd evening Aunt Sandy, G'd evening Mindy."

The two girls are watching some stupid talk show. They don't even acknowledge my presence.

"I'm not feeling well tonight I'd like to get a good night sleep so I can work properly tomorrow."

The grunt coming from the couch indicates that at least one of them has heard and processed what I just told them. Good, that was the general idea.