"If you're a vampire, let me see your fangs," Billy Dole said to her.
She exposed her perfectly normal teeth with a smile. "You've seen too many movies," she said.
Billy studied this beautiful woman who'd invited herself to sit at his table; a table at the Atlantic Club, the one he'd sat alone at every night for the past two years. She had long raven hair, ebony eyes, large moist lips, she was perfect as far as women go, and the most beautiful woman Billy had ever talked with. What was she up to, Billy asked himself. After all, he was nothing special, a loner, on the high side of forty, twenty pounds overweight, thinning hair and wire rimmed glasses. At best, he thought, he could be considered average. And he didn't have money, either. He was only a bookkeeper. The more he thought about it, the more Billy was convinced that to be considered just average would be a high compliment to him. Why would such a woman have an interest in him?
It must be some kind of joke, Billy reasoned. Someone from sales must have put her up to this.
"So, if you really are a vampire," Billy told her, "why are you telling me about it?"
"Because," she answered. "You appeal to me. I'd like you to feed me."
Billy almost fell off his chair in laughter. "Just how am I supposed to feed you?" he asked.
She didn't answer, she just looked into his eyes.
"Besides," Billy said. "You don't even have fangs. What do you intend to do, slit my wrists, suck the blood out?"
"No," she said in a serious tone. "I'm a modern vampire, I don't feed on blood."
"What's a vampire that doesn't feed on blood?" Billy asked in a cynical tone.
"There are other ways to receive the same nutrients," she informed him.
Billy just stared at her. He couldn't see how she could continue with this conversation and keep a straight face.
"You don't believe me," she said. "I'll prove it to you. Do you have a mirror?"
"I'm not in the habit of carrying one around with me," he said. Billy knew he had to be cautious. The guys in sales would be laughing at him for months if he fell victim to this prank. He reached across the table to touch her hand. It was soft and warm, the most tender thing he'd ever touched. And he wished something like this could be on the level. He was tired of always being the butt of someone's jokes. Billy fought to restrain this feeling of pleasure and vowed not to allow himself to become carried away.
"Then look at the mirror behind the bar," she said. "Do you see your reflection?"
Billy looked; he could see himself, but it only reminded him of how plain and below average he was.
"Now," she asked. "Can you see mine?"
To his amazement, Billy couldn't see her reflection. "You must be a magician or something like that."
"No," she said. "I'm a vampire."
"Okay," he said. "So you're a vampire. So what?"
"So I'd like to take you home with me."
Billy smiled. "Okay, now I get it, now this makes sense. Okay, how much, fifty? A hundred? How much?"
"I don't want money," she said. "I want you-to feed me."
"How?" Billy asked.
"With your bodily fluids."
Billy gave her a quizzical look. He was utterly confused. She took his hand and drew his finger to her lips, rubbing it around them, then caressing it with her tongue. "Does this help you understand?" she asked. "I want to milk you."
Billy's flesh began to burn with desire. "And this isn't going to cost me anything, right?"
"Just your fluids."
Billy still couldn't believe this was happening. There had to be a catch. What was her angle? Maybe, he thought, she had some guys waiting to roll him once his pants were down. "I have to warn you," Billy said. "I don't have any money on me."
"So?" she asked.
Billy couldn't pass up such an opportunity, but he decided to play it safe. "We'll go to my place, and I'll drive," he suggested.
"That's fine with me," she said.
As Billy stood up to leave, he became burdened with apprehension. "Do you do this sort of thing all the time?" he asked.
"It was selfish of me I suppose," Sylvia told him. "But you
I've told all the others and that's most likely why they chose not to join me. But I'm so tired of being alone. Eternity is such a long time."
"You're not alone anymore," Billy told the woman he loved. "But what about the feeding? How do I feed?"
"The same way I do, of course."
Richard Franzen has published stories in Atlanta Singles, Agincourt Irregular; a one-act play in The Muse Anthology; worked as a drama critic for the Worth-Palos Reporter and his first novel IMPLANT will be published in August by Seattle Press.
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