My Vampire and I (2 page)

 

just a little, of course. No doubt, I had the best look. Mark, his costume of black feathers moulting all over the place, brought me a martini and a big sloppy kiss. Mark and I used to be lovers, but shit happens, y'know. Happily, we've remained good friends—best friends, really. "You look great," he said, eyeing my getup. "You're so lucky to have all that hair..."

 

Mark was already getting thin on top, something that didn't sit well with him at all. Male pattern baldness—the curse every young queen wants to avoid, at all costs. Mark blamed his dad, who was bald as a coot at thirty. I'd tried to explain to him that it wasn't his dad's fault, but his mother's—

"My mother isn't bald," he'd snapped at me. Oh, well...
"What are you?" I asked.
"Nevermore," he said, trying to impersonate Peter Lorre or was it Vincent Price? "You know ...
The Raven.
"
"Oh. Edgar would have loved it."
"Don't sound so impressed," he grumped. "I mean, look at Betty over there, two hundred pounds and she wears a white 12 My Vampire and I
by J. P. Bowie
jumpsuit. I asked her if she'd come as the Michelin Man, and she threatened to lay me out."
"I'm not surprised," I said, laughing all the same.
"You haven't told
me
I look good." Kevin pouted, pretending to be miffed. Nothing fazes Kevin—nothing.
"That's because you're wearing an old sheet," Mark said, in a deprecating tone.
"It's what's under the sheet that looks good..."
Mark gave out a long exaggerated sigh. "Kevin, go get yourself a drink, so Roger and I can have a halfway intelligent conversation..." "Okay, Mother." He flashed Mark then sauntered off.

"Well," Mark murmured, watching him go. "He was right about it looking good." We giggled together, then he looked at me, a funny light in his eyes. "Gotta go..."

 

Strange, isn't it? One minute you're surrounded by all your friends, yakking up a storm, then suddenly, as if by magic, everyone drifts off, and you're left to sip your drink alone and stare vacantly around the room.

 

Later, I discovered it
was
a kind of magic. Because, it was then that I saw him, standing outside on the patio, his eyes fixed on me, unwavering, unapologetic. Hot! He was my age or maybe just a couple of years older. Tall, dark—and gorgeous...

 

Why's he out there?
I wondered.
Oh, maybe he's a smoker
... yuck. No sign of a cigarette though ...
As if propelled by some unseen force, almost as if someone had given me a good shove, I started walking towards him.

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He was dressed in black, as befits a vampire. It really was a very good costume—not at all cheap. Excellent cut on the tux—and the cape looked like heavy silk, fastened at his throat by a gold chain. The face above the chain was to die for—pale and interesting, I think my grandmother used to say.

Thick, black curly hair framed a face that was a lot more than merely interesting. If I said his skin was incandescent, it wouldn't be enough. If I told you his eyes were like dark green emeralds, I wouldn't be lying, just not saying enough.

 

As for his mouth—wide, generous, full—it was all of those, yet to say that isn't enough either. Even now, I can't find the words to describe his beauty. His very real, dark beauty.

For what seemed an eternity, we stared at one another, neither of us moving—just staring at one another, still and silent. Then he smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "Good
eeevening
," he said, his pearly whites almost glowing in the darkened patio. Oh, he's good, I thought—a great Lugosi impersonation.
"Hey..." I returned his smile with one I hoped was as enticing as his. "Why don't you come on in ... join the party?"

And, in an instant, he was by my side. I blinked into his green cat-like eyes, dizzied by his presence and intoxicated by the faintly exotic scent he exuded.

"How ... how did you do that?" I stammered.
"Do what?" he purred, his voice low and husky.
"You ... you didn't walk in. You just were here. First you were out there. Then you were standing here, next to me..."
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"Next to you. Where I belong." He raised his glass, one I hadn't seen until then, and clinked it gently against mine.
"Happy Birthday, Roger."
I quivered. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm clairvoyant," he replied with a smile that turned my knees to water. "Also, not hard of hearing. Your name was shouted by almost everyone in here when you arrived."

 

"Of course. Stupid of me."

 

"Not stupid—endearing." His smile hypnotised me. His eyes scanned my body from top to toe, lingering for a moment somewhere in the middle. "I like your costume—or should I say, the lack of one?"

"Thanks ... is it a bit too much?"
"I think it's just right." He touched my arm, sending tingles over my skin. "May I give you a kiss for your birthday?"

"Huh? A kiss...?" I was acting like some dumb, stage-struck queen. I looked up into his eyes. I had to look up—he was a good six two to my more modest, but compact, five ten. "Jeez, I'm sorry. You must think I'm some kind of hick."

"Was that a yes?"
"Y... yes."

He leaned forward and took my lips with his own. It was a gentle kiss, at first. Just the meeting of flesh on flesh; nice, warm, full flesh ... taking control of all of my senses.

Roger was everything I'd ever dreamed of, everything I'd hoped for, all these long years
...
long after I had first seen his face in my vision. Now, two centuries later, I could at last hold him in my arms, feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips on mine. I can honestly say, it was worth
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the wait, and I chastise myself for wishing he could have come to me sooner.

But I do wish it. When I sawhim, in the flesh for the first time, it was as though I had been transported. Perhaps his beauty cannot truly compare with the young model Michelangelo used for his statue of David, but there is a similarity around the eyes and mouth. The mouth I claimed for my own.

He felt so adorable, unspoiled, untouched by cynicism and artifice—a young man poised on the edge of life, ready for its great adventure. If I have my way, I thought, I would be the one to lead him to his destiny.

 

His thoughts were in chaos...

Stop ... please stop
, I screamed in my mind while the make-believe vampire kissed me.
Stop, or I'll make a fool of myself right here in the middle of this room. I'll toss this glass away—the one I'm practically crushing to pieces in my hand right now. I'll just throwit away, hold you in my arms, press my body to yours, rip the Armani tux off your hot body and let you fuck me right here in front of all these people. Yes, I will! Yes, I...

He stepped back, his lips forming that perfect smile again.
"What happened?" I gasped.
"I kissed you," he said.
"I know ... but it felt like more..."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Roger. I thought it was rather nice, myself." He glanced down at my glass. "Can I get you a refill?" 16
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"That'd be nice. Wait." I grabbed his arm, feeling the strength in the hard biceps beneath the silk. "I don't know your name."

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me." He inclined his head slightly. "My name is Marcus." He walked away towards the bar, his cape billowing behind him, just like a real vampire's would.

 

Wow. I just couldn't believe my luck. That this gorgeous guy should choose me, out of all the other good looking guys in the room.
Must be the gold sparkles
, I thought. I grinned at my friend Mark as he sashayed over, still moulting.

"Who's that guy you're talking to?" he asked me.
"His name's Marcus. Didn't you invite him?"

"Uh-uh. He must have come with one of the other guys, I guess." He looked over at the bar where my vampire stood, patiently waiting to be served. "He's hot..."

"He certainly is," I agreed. "He kissed me," I added with a deal of smugness. "A birthday kiss, he said."
"Lucky you." Mark leered at me. "Play your cards right, my birthday boy, and you might get to kiss him back."

"I'd like to lick him all over," I said, meaning it. "He is just too..." I broke off as Marcus walked towards us, carrying my refilled martini, which he handed to me. "Thanks," I said, with a big smile. "Marcus, this is my best friend,
Mark
. He's the one throwing me this party."

Marcus held out his hand. "Delighted to meet you, Mark."
"Same here," Mark said, then stepped back as if suddenly startled. "Oh, sorry ... something I gotta do..." He turned, 17 My Vampire and I
by J. P. Bowie
and practically ran from the room, scattering black feathers everywhere.
I looked at Marcus with wide eyes. "What the heck's the matter with him, I wonder?"
Marcus didn't comment on Mark's weird behaviour.
Instead, he ran his fingertips up the length of my arm. "I wanted you all to myself."
What was that accent—something European?
"Would you care to step outside?" he asked. "It's a little stuffy in here, don't you think?"
Whatever and wherever
, I thought, letting him steer me towards the patio door.
Anywhere you want to go is just fine with me...
"Let me just dump this thing," I said, leaning my trident against the wall. It was already getting on my nerves.

We stood for a moment or two in the balmy air, and I, feeling that this was probably the most romantic evening of my life, lifted my head and gazed into the night sky. A falling star arced through the inky blackness.

"Oh, my God," I whispered. "A falling star ... we have to wish."
"What would you wish for, Roger?" Marcus asked, moving closer to me.
"If I told you, it might not come true." Oh, well ... nothing ventured, and all that ... "But if you must know, I'd wish for another kiss from you."

"Granted," he murmured, pulling me into his arms. His lips, those soft, luscious lips met mine in a kiss that made my senses reel. My lips parted under the pressure, and his 18

My Vampire and I
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tongue slipped into my mouth. My knees buckled under me, and I swear I almost swooned. I was aware, barely, of him wrapping his cape around me, then it seemed as if we were floating—no, not floating, soaring—through the night sky, just the two of us. He held me in his strong embrace, while I clung to him, letting his tongue plunder my mouth with a sensuousness I had never before experienced.
Sweet mother
, I thought,
all this from just a kiss?
What would it feel like if we...

"Roger..."
I blinked, gazing into the emerald green depths of his eyes. I leaned my forehead on his chest and let out a long shuddering sigh. "God, Marcus ... you are incredible. I felt as though you and I were flying."

"We were." He stepped back, letting his cape fall from my shoulders. I looked around me, then back at him, then away again. Where the hell were we?

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My Vampire and I
by J. P. Bowie

Chapter Two

"Wh ... where are we?" I stammered, taking in the high walls that surrounded us. This wasn't Mark's patio!
"We are in my home, Roger. I bid you welcome."
"But how...?" I looked around me. "How did we get here?"
There was that mesmerising smile again. "Just as you said, Roger. We flew."
"But ... that's not possible," I whispered. "Unless..."
A horrible realisation slowly began to dawn on me. That ultra-smart tux and cloak were not parts of a costume. "You
... you're not a ... a ... vamp ... vampire, are you?" I stammered.

He shucked off the cape from his shoulders and loosened his shirt collar. "These get to be too much after a while, don't you think? Look at you, wearing next to nothing..."

He pulled off his tux jacket, followed quickly with his shirt, then paused, letting me drink in the sight of his glorious, masculine beauty. I'd been right. Beneath that formal attire was the body of a god—finely honed, naturally sculpted. A body that could never be attained by hours in the gym. This man was godlike, even though I knew him to be anything but that. He might look like a god, but from what I knew of vampires—and I fancied myself quite the academician on that subject—he was closer to being a devil. Not, I may add, one covered in gold sparkles and wearing an itsy bitsy gold bikini, but the real McCoy!

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He stepped towards me, and I backed up, just a tad.
"Wait," I said, my voice sounding decidedly wimpy.
"For what?" His teeth showed in his smile.
Cripes
, I thought. Had they grown? Didn't that mean he was ready to feed?
Feed
! I looked for the way out. There was no way out. "Roger..." His voice was low and soothing. "Are you afraid of me?"
"Of course I'm afraid of you. You ... you're a vampire.
You're going to bite my neck, suck my blood..."
"I'd rather suck your cock."
"Wh ... what?" Despite myself, his words caused a stirring in my groin.
"Why do you think I brought you here, to my home? If all I had wanted was to drink your blood, I could have done that on your friend Mark's patio." He stepped nearer. I didn't back up.

"But I want so much more than that," he continued, his voice soothing my jumpy nerves. "Forgive my earlier crude remark. I merely wanted to take your mind off the blood sucking aspect of vampirism. You see ... I want to make love to you, Roger."

 

"Wait," I put my hand on his chest which was covered in a light dusting of black hair and as hard as marble. "I ... I don't usually do that right away. I mean ... uh ... you know ... why don't we talk for a little while. Get to know one another. That kind of thing," I finished lamely.

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"An admirable sentiment," he said, holding my hand pressed to his chest. "And of course, I have an advantage over you, having first seen you some three weeks ago."

What ... three weeks?
"Wait a minute," I protested. "
Where
, three weeks ago? I didn't see you. I
know
I'd remember that."
He reached out and ran his thumb over my lower lip. I almost fainted dead away. He caught me as I staggered then held me close to his bare chest. My breath was coming in great gasping gulps.