Oh you were a vampire and I may never see the light

I chuckled to myself and pulled my pack of Camel Wides from my inside pocket, followed by my trusty Zippo (yeah, you could still smoke in bars back then, and cigarettes weren’t the worst thing I’d put into my body that week). Taking a long drag as I pondered the representational worship of fire that was my oldest current vice ( I only quit smoking two years ago), each drag a prayer to Vulcan with sacrificial smoke built into the package. I can’t say I was surprised by Carrie addressing me and breaking me from my reverie.

“What was that?” Red velvet dress. Hair and makeup perfect. I took another drag and smiled sardonically.

“What did you think it was?” As I spoke I let the bluish smoke drift from my mouth like the exhale of a sleeping dragon.

“I have no idea but you did... something to that girl.” It was a statement but it was also a question. And an accusation? My ex carny powers told me that she was incredibly curious about what she had just seen. And a little turned on. And jealous?

“Just having some fun.” My enigmatic smirk must have been driving her crazy. “Where’s Steve?”

She sighed theatrically, and creased her lips into an adorable pout. “He’s been nerding out about fighting with James all night,” she said with a tone of disdain. “He asked me to come here with him. Said it would be fun.”

I stubbed out my ciggie and began to rise to my feet. “In that case, I’d suggest you watch the show to alleviate some of your boredom. It should prove entertaining.”

“Show?” She asked.

Again the enigmatic smile was my only answer as I made my way to the dance floor without another glance in her direction. Full disclosure. Most of the time I dance like a one legged emu on methamphetamines. But I know how to ballroom and that was exactly what I had planned.

I leaned back against the rail of the bar (the bar was a wrap around. Inside the cage you could get booze. Here on the dance floor you could get water and soda) perusing the crowd and looking for Anna. I spotted her swaying to the music (I recall it being “Marilyn My Bitterness” by The Cruxshadows), and watched her gyrate in time with the darkwave synth. As the song drew to a close she began to make her way toward the bar, and then froze when her eyes met mine. Showtime!

I stood to my full height (only a couple inches taller than her... I’ve been 5’6” since fifth grade) and started to make my way toward her. I never knew why but the patrons of Club Laga seemed to have a sort of sixth sense regarding impending drama, and the crowd parted around me like the Red Sea. Finally I stood in the center of the now nearly empty dance floor, five feet from my plaything who stood staring, mouth slightly open and visibly trembling. The opening bars of Dead Can Dance’s “The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove” began to eke forth from the speakers as I raised my hand in a “come hither” gesture. Like a marionette with her strings being pulled, Anna began to glide toward me.

As I beckoned her forward, her gaze still locked on mine held equal measures of fear and lust. Whatever confusion had been there initially had evaporated into the knowledge that her nightmare and fantasy was coming true. She knew exactly what was going to happen and that she was helpless to stop it. I stopped her a foot away and held out my hand. Again, like the puppet she had become, her arm raised and her tiny hand found its way into my meaty paw.

I drew her close to me as the haunting lyrics of the song began to penetrate the atmosphere, and began to waltz, guiding her with my eyes and my hands, dipping and whirling in time with the music. As the cooldown at the end of the song began we came to a halt, then, pulling her tight against my chest, I went into a final dip. As Brendan Perry sang the final plaintive words, I pulled her back up and placed my lips to her throat.