A Loaf Of Bread, A Bottle Of Wine and Thou

Christ, you're such a schmuck. You got this babe who's got the hots for you, and you didn't know what to do?

Sir, you are quite the vulgarian. Do not scoff. You talk so loosely, as if you would have known exactly what you would have done if you were me, but you cannot even imagine what it is like to be me.

Fine. Whatever. So, what did you do?

I sought the counsel of a professional, who did put things into a perspective far wider than I would have imagined.

"Maybe you might think about actually taking off your clothes." That was Jasmine's ultimate response to my question regarding the situation with Nicole.

Walls. She spoke of walls surrounding me, behind which she said I hid.

My rules are different, was my reply. Self-preservation is imperative. Those walls Jasmine spoke of are a human construct, irrelevant to one such as myself.

Jasmine shook her head vigorously, her soft flesh pressed close to me. An expert at reading people, she saw right through my facade, but hell's damnation, do not walls have their use? Why in the name of all the false gods of heaven would I risk existence for a few fleeting moments of mundane pleasure?

Why indeed.

"Maybe you might think about actually taking off your clothes," Jasmine repeated, toying with the top button of my shirt. She undid the first then second button, rolled on top of me and rubbed her breasts against my smooth, hairless chest until her nipples came erect. "You're hiding behind your clothes, and you're hiding behind lame excuses."

"I beg your pardon."

"You heard me. Like you've never had a human lover in all these years you've been alive? Like you've never been intimate with a human woman? C'mon, maybe you can fool that little girl, but you're not fooling me." She rose to her knees, straddled my midsection, reached down and undid the remaining buttons. "She's not gonna wait forever for you to make up your mind."

I smiled at her. "Perhaps, it is foolish to ask questions when the answers are already known."

Jasmine reached for my belt buckle. "I wish you luck with your little girl. I'm gonna miss you, Al. You want me, you know where to find me."

"Your sentiment is greatly appreciated."

She grinded her pelvis against my loins. "Just remember, some jobsare best left to professionals."

****

Her father's book was still in my possession, which offered a pretense for inviting her to my little apartment a second time. Why not offer her dinner as well?

It was no surprise when she accepted my offer, enthusiasm clear in her voice.

Dinner was veal Parmesan, with pasta and zucchini and a nice Chianti. Nicole ate with great relish, and when she was done, we moved to the futon where we continued our conversation as she sipped her wine, the fruity bouquet pleasantly tickling my nostrils.

"I do remember my grandmother's stories," Nicole said. "She would talk about vampires, but I never believed her. I'd pretend I did 'cuz I loved hearing her stories."

"What kinds of tales did she tell?"

"She'd tell stories about creatures rising in the night, appearing in a cloud of mist, feeding off the blood of the living. My favorite was about how when she was just a little girl, she was in the woods, gathering wild berries. She lost track of the time, and before she knew it, the sun set. It was dark, and she was lost, and she was really scared. Then, she saw this cloud of mist suddenly appear in front of her. In the mist, a face formed, white as a full moon. Then, it was a man standing before her, but she knew it wasn't a man. He smiled, and she saw his fangs, but he extended his hand and told her not to be scared. She took his hand, and it was ice cold. He walked her through the woods, quickly guiding her home. When my grandmother's house was in sight, the man disappeared in a cloud of mist."

The tale brought a smile to my face. "That is certainly a plausible story. We, like you, are equally capable of good and evil."

She shook her head, smiling. "This all seems so unbelievable. At first, I thought you were crazy. I didn't want to think so, but I really didn't have any choice. But there's no doubting what I've seen." Nicole reached into her purse, drew a mirror, turned her back and looked at the reflection over her shoulder. She shook her head again, shuddering ever so slightly.

"I am not really real, not in the sense that you normally think of within your accustomed context."

"But I see you. I can touch you."

"My natural state is more like mist than corporal matter. What you see is, in a sense, an illusion."

"An effective one, I'd say." Nicole replaced the mirror and turned toward me. "So, that story about that woman - Anya - that was on the level?"

"Yes. We had the misfortune of being inPrague when the Germans invaded. Before we could escape, the Nazis broke into our garret. They raped and killed Anya while I lay helpless within a crate."

Shock registered on her face. "Helpless! While they killed the woman you loved?"

I studied the swirling grain of the stained oak paneling. "It was just about the most hideous experience in all the years of my existence. The coming dawn finds me near comatose, too weak to even move. When the Nazis broke in, the sun had just risen. All I could do was listen. I had not even the strength to lift my arms."

A hand rose to her mouth. "Ohmygod. What did you do?"

"Nothing." The word passed my lips like a spike driven into damp earth. "When I was finally strong enough to rise, I buried Anya, then killed every German soldier I could find."

Nicole reached for my hand. "Oh, Al, I'm really sorry. Christ, that's years ago, but for somebody as old as you, it must just seem like yesterday."

Her fingers felt smooth as she squeezed my hand. "Aye, that's the rub. You are correct. I may be a thousand years old, but I still see Anya standing right before my eyes as if it were yesterday."

"A thousand years." Nicole seemed to speak to the air floating above us. "Were you - were you human? Once upon a time?"

"That last moment of mortality remains with me, always remains with me, like some hideous painting, perhaps like a combination of Van Gogh and Munch at their most macabre.

"When I gaze upon that painting, it is as if I am on the outside looking in. I see myself lying on my bed, an expression of abject horror on my face. To my side lies my wife, her skin gray and bloodless, her throat ripped open, her blood all over the sheets. Straddled over me is a vampire, mouth open, poised to strike, blood and saliva dripping from his fangs, his face contorted in manic, animalistic fury.

"He sank his fangs into my neck and drank deeply until I no longer could feel my body. It felt like I was flying. The room before me disappeared. Blinding, white light appeared ahead of me, and all I wanted was to fly toward the light, feeling the peace within its embrace, knowing that my wife waited for me there.

"But then, there was a salty taste in my mouth. The light faded and disappeared, and I was back in the shabby little hovel that had been my home, our home, the vampire sitting on my waist, his wrist pressed to my lips.

"Rage filled my entire being. Almost home, but then he pulled me back to a place that no longer held any meaning for me! I could not have known exactly what his blood would do to me, but somehow I understood and fought to keep my mouth shut, but the blood spurted down my throat. As soon as I swallowed those first drops, lust for more of this grand blood supplanted my rage. Not believing my own eyes, I actually held his wrist tightly with both hands. It took a greater-than-human effort for the vampire to wrest his arm free of my grip when I had taken all he was willing to give.

"I can never forget his words. 'You are like me, a hunter of the night. You feed by drinking of the blood of the living. You travel in the night, and you must stay far from the light.'

"Somehow, I understood. Idid become a hunter of the night, marveling in my strength and stamina, which enabled me to run a hundred miles a night. Those first years, I must have traversed central and easternEurope many times, feeding upon whatever creatures I would find, occasionally coming upon a populated village."

Nicole gasped loudly. I turned and gripped both her shoulders gently. "Yes, my dear, I was not always the same creature you know now. I would descend upon these villages, ripping, tearing and wantonly killing with the same fervor as the creature who had murdered my wife. Nothing mattered anymore. I had died! And I had welcomed death, only to have it taken away from me, replaced by a soulless, faithless hell."

"How did you change?" Her voice shook.

"One night, I arose from the earthen forest floor and took off running, just as I had for I knew not how long. By this time, my humanity was completely stripped away. I ran naked, my body caked with grime, my hair a matted, tangled mess. A strong, gamey scent washed into my nostrils, and I ran toward the smell, but suddenly found myself sitting on the forest floor, having struck some sort of invisible wall.

"A rather dandified gentleman stood above me, grinning in an annoyingly bemused manner. I immediately demanded that the fellow identify himself, but he just laughed and replied, 'Ah, the creature has a tongue,' much sarcasm dripping from his words. I rose and charged the fellow, but collided with a tree. He somehow had disappeared even though he had stood just before me."

"He turned to mist, just like my grandmother's vampire. Can you do that?"

"Yes, but I had no such talent at that time, nor did I even realize that such abilities existed. I attempted to charge again, but once again, he disappeared. Suddenly, I felt a great crushing weight against my larynx. The fellow had an arm wrapped tightly around my neck. I struggled, but he was too strong.

"'Killers like you are far too dangerous to be allowed to exist,' he said, his voice an angry whisper.

"I was no brainless creature, even though I had become a remorseless killer. My mind worked quickly. 'Maybe there might be another path which you might show me,' I answered.

"His laughter nearly broke my eardrums. 'Are you even worth the trouble, creature-with-a-tongue?' he replied.

"'You will not know if you make not the effort,'" I argued.

"You convinced him?" Nicole asked.

"Yes. At that moment, he could have easily snapped my neck, and my existence would have ended. But he did not, and he never, ever explained why."

"I'm glad he changed his mind."

"As am I. Francois was his name. He took me to a monastery where they cleaned me, clothed me and gave me a well-rounded education. Francois himself made a concerted effort to mold me, teaching the importance of possessing some form of morals, some sort of respect for the mortals who provide our sustenance. I owe my survival to Francois. You see, he had a profound understanding of the path humanity was taking or would eventually take. Francois was quite prophetic in his prediction that humanity would eventually reject superstition in favor of science, and then our kind would be more likely accepted at face value."

"What happened to Francois?"

"He still exists; that I know though we have not seen each other in almost two centuries. As time passed, I moved west, and he moved east. The last word from him, he was inTibet ."

Nicole hugged herself tightly. "Fuck. I don't know whether to envy you for being able to live forever or feel sorry for you for all the terrible things that've probably happened to you over all those years."

"Ah, but imagine seeing Mozart perform. Imagine meeting DeVinci. Imagine being inParis during the French Revolution."

"Cool!" Nicole rose dart-straight in her chair.

"Well...." Images of coarse commoners cheering at a public guillotining passed before my eyes. "Not so, as you say, 'cool.' I was lucky to escape the guillotine myself. The Committee of Public Safety took none too kindly to any members of the aristocracy, French or otherwise."

She raised both eyebrows. "Of course!" She laughed loudly. "Count Farkus. You really are a count, aren't you?"

"Technically, yes. Centuries ago, I was able to purchase title from an unfortunate Hungarian nobleman, but that was long ago, and now I am a lord with no manor."

"I wondered about that. Why are you working? I'd think someone would have to be a total idiot to not be filthy rich after a thousand years."

I smiled shyly. "Onewould have to be an idiot to not be wealthy after all that time. I was wealthy, but your nation's stock market crash last autumn took care of that. My perception was clouded by greed, and I had not properly hedged my portfolio. An incompetent financial manager prevented any semblance of a recovery. There was still some money left, but he embezzled nearly all that remained."

"But I'd think there must be plenty of ways to get money without having to work."

"Perhaps I truly desire to work."

"You can't really mean that."

"Why can I not?"

"Well, I wouldn't work if I didn't have to."

"Ah, but that is precisely my point. I do not actually have to work."

"But you don't have any money."

"I could live in the woods and subsist like an animal."

Her laughter echoed loudly. "Oh, pu-leeze. I think you like us humans too much to hang out in the woods with all those dumb animals."

"True." I gazed at her, admiring the way the flickering candlelight made her raven tresses shimmer. "But, if I were not to work, what would you have me do?"

"You could use your powers and hypnotize people into giving you their money."

"Simple thievery? How dishonorable. How...common."

"Maybe you might turn yourself into mist and rematerialize inside a bank. You could take a buncha money and be set and not have to work."

"That is still thievery, my dear."

"Well, what if you just borrowed the money?"

I shook my head, perhaps feeling a certain disdain at what seemed a bit of amorality on her part, but the moment passed quickly. "This is penance for my poor judgment, for being lazy. I am striving to relearn how to fend for myself. Besides, I would not want to abuse my abilities for monetary gain. I have made my peace with mortals - "

"Sounds a bit haughty there, Count, almost like you meant to say, 'mere mortals.'"

I lightly patted her hand. "There are exceptions, but generally, I do not consider myself superior, just different. I need your species, and I learned long ago that it is best not to kill the goose that lays the proverbial golden eggs. My outlook has certainly changed over the centuries, but certainly the Judeo-Christian notion of loving thy neighbor as thyself is still well ingrained within my being."

She grinned broadly, shaking her head. "This is sofucking unbelievable. I mean, this is great. A real vampire! And here I am just chatting with him, just like he was anybody else."

"Quite a curiosity, is it not?"

"Quite! So many questions. I don't know where to begin."

"Understandable. You grow up hearing stories at your grandmother's knee, but most of your perception is based on books and movies."

Nicole pulled her knees to her chest. "I hear when the Hiring Committee asked you who would play you in a movie, you said Frank Langella because of the 'sensitive sensuality' he brought to the role of Dracula. Do you actually watch vampire movies?"

"I find them amusing. And I've read many vampire books as well. Most of the movies are ridiculous, but I liked Langella because he did capture the sheer sexuality of the role. Bram Stoker's book really had little to do with vampirism. Actually, it was more a metaphor of Victorian sexuality."

"Yeah." Nicole's head bobbed up and down. "I would agree with that. So,Hollywood 's done a pretty abysmal job portraying your kind?"

"Well,Love At First Bite was not bad."

"Love At First Bite?! You're kidding me, aren't you?"

"Well, the film does make a mockery of the Dracula legend, but in terms of what real life is like for a vampire, it is not too far off the mark."

"Ever read Ann Rice?"

"Of course. I find her writing quite enjoyable, especiallyThe Vampire Lestat . The story was touching, and the prose was lush and passionate."

"But what about Lestat himself?"

I shook my head vociferously. "A most engaging character, but he is too foolhardy. Other vampires would have destroyed him without a thought. Creatures like that are simply too dangerous to be allowed to exist. Actually, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's Saint Germain rings truer than any other fictional vampire I can think of."

Nicole sighed. "He is wonderful, isn't he?"

"Perhaps a little too wonderful."

"Jealous?"

"No. It is just that Saint Germain is too perfect. He always does the right thing. He always makes the right decision. His virtue never comes in question. How would you feel if you had to live up to that kind of unattainable perfection?"

"Well, I wouldn't like it, and I don't like it," she answered, her tone oddly harsh. "Hell, women face those kinds of comparisons all the time. Men want us to look like super models, movie stars and centerfolds. I'm sorry, I'm not anorexic, and I'm not getting a boob job. You'll have to accept me just the way I am."

"Which is perfect - perfectly wonderful."

Nicole immediately softened. "Ahhww, shucks." She took one of my hands, wrapped it within her warm, soft fingers. Her eyes met mine. "So, Count Farkus, what do we do now?"

I squeezed her hand gently. "That is up to you. I do not want to rush you into something you are not prepared for."

Her smile widened as moist lips parted. "This futon opens into a bed, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"Wait," she said, as if she suddenly remembered something she should have. "How do you, well, you know - "

"Lovemaking with a vampire is not that much different from what you are accustomed. That is, if that was your question."

She smiled shyly, almost coquettishly. "But you'll bite me, right? But only just take a little bit of blood?"

"Yes, just a little. At the time of the climax of your pleasure. That allows me to taste your pleasure through the shared consciousness that occurs at that moment."

"Shared consciousness?" She sounded excited. "Does that mean I'll be able to feel you feeling my orgasm?"

"Hopefully."

Nicole practically jumped from the futon. She grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled it from the wall, nearly knocking me over in the process. "Let's get to it." Then, she paused. "Just another couple questions. I won't turn into a vampire when you bite me, will I?"

"No."

"Yeah, I thought so." She spread the futon as I gathered the pillows, sheet and blanket. "What about AIDS? I mean, you don't screen your victims. It might not affect you, or maybe it does. But how will it affect me?"

"That is a very good question." We sat together on the newly made bed, Nicole leaning into my open arms, her hands running over my back. "When I first heard of the virus, I ran some experiments. I can assure you that neither of us has anything to worry about. Perhaps, if I were to bite someone with the virus, then shortly thereafter, bite someone else while the previous person's blood still coated my fangs - that might be a problem. But the virus simply cannot live, let alone propagate, within my body. First, my body temperature is too cold. Second, whatever it is in my blood that makes me what I am, that is death to the AIDS virus."

"Maybe they could use your blood as a cure for AIDS."

"Then, there would be all these formally HIV positive people turning into vampires, but maybe someday one of us will figure how to isolate the vampiric part."

"Someday, but not today." Nicole wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and pulled me closer to her. Our lips met. Hers, moist, soft like rose petals, kissing me with passion and fervor, her tongue passing my lips, meeting my tongue, caressing my teeth, searching for the two very sharp, very pointy, very special ones.

Our mouths remained locked together, arms clamped around each other as we slowly peeled off each other's garments, slowly, ever so slowly revealing each other's secrets. Her hands unclasping each button, lingering upon the flesh underneath. Mine feeling the softness of her round breasts, the delicate lace of her brassiere lightly tickling my fingers.

Then, all secrets were stripped away, and we momentarily parted just to gain greater perspective in order to gaze upon the truth before us. And the truth was accepted, and it was beautiful, and we joined together again, hands again touching, kneading, probing, and soon lips and tongues did what hands had done.

"God, your skin is so cold."

"Vampires do have a much lower body temperature."

"Mmmmm. That'll be nice when it gets really hot."

Nicole moved between my legs, taking what had been my mortal manhood in her mouth. The pleasure of her tongue caressing what was still sensitive skin distracted me from something I should have told her. After a bit, she stopped and looked up at me.

"Al, is there something wrong?" She held the limp organ, her expression most mournful.

I sat up and tenderly caressed her hair. "Nothing is wrong, my dear. I am sorry, I should have told you. That is the one thing I cannot do."

"You can't get it up?" She let the organ drop through her fingers.

"A reproductive organ in a creature that does not reproduce through sexual intercourse is as useful as a mortal's appendix. I hope you are not disappointed."

She moved her body upward, resting her head against my beating heart. "No. It's okay." Nicole faced me, a sweet smile on her face. "ThatI can get from any Biff, Chip, Dick or Harry, but this should be something special, something unique. I just worry that it might not be as good for you."

I laughed heartily at that. "Do not worry about that, my sweet. What I will experience far surpasses the vulgarity of a grunting, slavering male's ejaculation."

And then we resumed, our bodies merging as one through the touching of skin against skin, the exploration of fingers, lips and tongues, and when my fingers reached downward to her cleft of mystery, she was wet, her voice suddenly speaking like it was the wind urging me onward, telling me, "Yes, yes, yes."

I moved between her legs, exploring this mysterious land with my tongue, reveling in her scent, her taste, which was clean and salty-sweet, so very, very sweet, like the sweet taste of the sweetest of sweet, sweet blood.

Then, the time had just about arrived, and I removed my mouth from where it was, leaving my fingers in its stead, urging her forward to the inevitable conclusion, my lips kissing her soft neck, tongue licking her flesh, mouth opening, fangs finding their spot, pressing against the skin, lovingly caressing the spot where we would join.

She gasped loudly, her body shuddered, then fangs pierced flesh. Hot blood shot into my mouth. The room disappeared into blackness. Whiteness pulsated in the distance, pulsated like a beating heart, growing, moving closer, more and more quickly.

Growing, growing. Moving closer.

Exploding.

A mammoth chrysanthemum exploded from bud to fully bloomed white blossom with plump petals, this flower obscuring all sight, all sense, all everything before wilting and fading, something distant pulling it away, then replacing it with another pulsating speck of white light. A speck, a dot, a sphere, again moving closer, growing. And exploding, another white chrysanthemum, with such plump, juicy petals.

Again and again, for an indeterminable period of time, until finally the flowers began to get smaller, their explosions blossoming with less fury until they would bloom no more.

"Flowers," Nicole said, her breathy voice again like the wind.

"Yes, flowers." I kissed her softly on the lips, enveloping her in my arms. We lay intertwined together for a long time, silent, with no words needed, for our bodies had spoken, as had our souls.

Finally, Nicole's laughter broke the silence. "My boyfriend the vampire." More laughter. "I like the sound of that."

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