Saving Susan

It can be a hell of a life, being undead. Old friends either shun you, hurl holy water at you or scream and run for the hills whenever they see you coming. I never deliberately set out to become a vampire of course, it was just my wretched luck I suppose. My master plan for that ill-fated evening was to simply escape my nagging wife and demanding kids by having a night out at the pub with my mates. Sadly, things didn’t go exactly as planned. For starters, only one of my mates turned up and he was under strict orders to go home early and sober. As a consequence, I ended up drinking alone for far too long, far too much and thus got myself far too drunk to feel remotely comfortable about going straight home.

So I walked (or more likely staggered) around for a bit, feeling sorry for myself because deep inside, I felt I somehow deserved better than the crappy life I'd so far managed to carve out for myself. In particular, I felt unappreciated at home. No matter how much I did and what sacrifices I made for my family, it was never enough for them. Something more was constantly being demanded of me and the stress this put me under had me feeling distinctly unloved. So, unloved eh? Well, my beer saturated brain, in a rare act of rebellion, slyly suggested that if I had enough money left in my wallet, I could do something about that.

So I did. I weaved my unsteady way to the part of town where I knew prostitutes would be plying their ancient and dishonorable trade. When I got there, I found that trade must be very good indeed because I couldn’t afford any of the provocatively clad women I chose to proposition. I'd just about given up hope of finding an affordable fuck and was verbally debating with myself (the way drunks do) as to how I was going to explain my mega-late arrival at home, when a slim but shapely middle-aged lady stepped out from the shadows and asked me, in the most seductive voice ever, if I was looking for business. Her makeup looked rather pale and somewhat understated for a professional lady of the night, her accent was that of a well cultured person and she wore a long, expensive looking, black, figure-hugging sheith of a dress. When I asked "how much", the lady just smiled and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "don't worry, I won't bleed you dry."

Yes, you're right of course, that last comment of hers should have rung any number of alarm bells in my head. Maybe it did and I was too drunk and **** to hear them. The thing is, from this point onwards, my memories of what happened next become somewhat hazy. I went with this alluringly sexy creature to ........ somewhere dark. I remember her helping me get undressed before shedding her dress and I definitely recall that she seemed to ooze out of it rather in the manner a serpent might shed it's skin. I think she got me to lay down on........... something..... and then she sort of...... slithered on top of me. She was of surprisingly little weight and her skin felt velvety smooth yet strangely cold wherever it came into contact with mine. Her erect nipples felt like ice cubes as they grazed my chest. Her lips were deathly cold as she kissed my lips.....and throat......and .........and then I recall nothing else until I regained consciousness in an alley with a strong taste of blood in my mouth. This I couldn't account for because on checking myself over, I seemed to be quite uninjured.

It was still dark, I was still naked but my clothes were still there and, most oddly of all, so was my money. Something else felt strange too. I was suddenly incredibly clear headed for a man who'd only recently put away more beers than he could remember. A little less weird was the fact that I now felt ravenous. In fact, this was actually quite normal for me after a nights heavy drinking, but somehow, my usual yearning for a greasy kebab just wasn't there this time. I needed.......something else; someone else? Thoughts of my family at home came to mind. They'd all be in bed by now. For sure, my lot wouldn’t still be up, worrying about what might have happened to me. As far as they were concerned, I'd be bound to turn up sooner or later with some lame excuse to cover up the fact that I'd simply crashed out somewhere after imbibing a skinful and a half of intoxicants. Yep, they'd all be tucked up in their respective cots, **** and......defenceless? Why did this thought cause my heart to beat a little faster? For reasons I as yet simply had no notions of, I found myself licking my lips as I set off for home.