by BostonFictionWriter©

A man picks up a woman in a bar who turns out to be a vampire.

Because I live alone and, usually, am so sexually frustratingly lonely, the period from Thanksgiving through to the New Year’s holidays are always more problematic for me. To be honest, torturously depressing and aggravatingly annoying are more the descriptive words for how I feel during those six weeks. I avoid the bustling crowds, shopping malls, and supermarkets by buying whatever I can ahead of time and freezing it. Instead of having to put up with long lines of people, who are just as impatient and frazzled as I am, I’d rather run out to a convenience store for whatever I need.

Having grown up in an orphanage, I never believed in Santa Claus. The way that I figured it was, if there was a Santa Claus, he would have gotten me out of that Hell hole by finding someone to adopt me, but he didn’t and no one did. Having never known my parents, I’ve spent my whole life looking for love and only finding sex. Now, unfortunately, unable to tell the difference between good sex and true love, nonetheless, having sex with an endless procession of women has served me well.

Never having received any toys for Christmas as a child, other than the few trinkets that they gave us at the orphanage, and never having had children of my own, as an adult, I’ve grown to hate kids. I hate hearing Christmas music. I hate the cold, the ice, and the wind. I hate snow. I swear, if I hear Jose Feliciano sing Feliz Navidad, one more time, I’ll kill someone. And don’t get me started on Burl Ives singing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.

Not having anyone special in my life, because I’m so depressed anyway, I usually drink more during that time. Other than to watch sports on television, what else is there to do but to drink? Actually, now that I think more about it, I don’t need a reason to drink. I’m a drunk and drinking is what I do from the time that I wake up to the time that I go to bed. Nonetheless, unless I get lucky with some woman, having no one to celebrate the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year holidays with, I usually hang out at the bar and celebrate the holidays with my drinking buddies.

Being that we’re just drinking buddies, we don’t buy one another gifts, per se, we buy one another drinks. Even though we’re all in the same boat, alone and lonely, we still manage to have a good time talking, laughing, and drinking. Only, as soon as I entered the place, Christmas music hit me in the face like a cold shower. Then, when Jose Feliciano came on the radio and started singing, Feliz Navidad, I was about to yell to Dave, the bartender, to turn that shit off and put on the football game, when I noticed her. There sitting alone at the end of the bar was an unfamiliar face, a beautiful face, if ever I saw one. Someone new, it’s always exciting to find fresh meat to hopefully hit on and to make a love connection. Only…

I didn’t know she was a vampire. C’mon, seriously, how was I to know she’s a vampire? I didn’t even know that vampires existed. Even if vampires exist, which I know now that they exist, I’d never think that a vampire looked anything like her. Besides, what are the odds of a vampire coming to my small town and hanging out at my drinking hole? Except for the cape that she wasn’t wearing, the huge fangs she didn’t have, and the pallor of her skin, she was tanned, what does a vampire even look like? Other than on TV or in the movies, I’ve never seen one to know.

She looked like a normal, albeit beautiful woman to me. In hindsight, except for the tattoo on her leg, her arm, and her shoulder, and except for the big colorful tattoo above her butt crack, she looked like the typical woman hanging around a bar, while waiting for an interested and interesting man to buy her a drink. Yet, a lot of women are tattooed today, albeit admittedly not with tattoos of the Devil. Moreover, most tattooed women aren’t vampires.

To be honest, as if she was a shining star, mesmerized by the pretty sight of her, I didn’t even notice her tattoos, that is, until I started talking to her and until I thought I was going to get lucky. Before I even had a drink and before I was even tipsy, then when every women suddenly becomes the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw in my life. Once I noticed her tattoos, I used them as a lead in and asked her about them to make conversation.

I figured for her to have so many tattoos that tattoos were important to her. Maybe she’s a tattoo artist. I never had sex with an artist before, a tattoo artist or any artist at all. Oh, yeah, in the way that I’d love to tattoo her, if you know what I mean, I’d let her tattoo me.

“Merry Christmas,” I said. “Nice tats.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too. Thank you,” she said looking down at the tattoo on her arm, before looking up at me, while I looked at the exposed cleavage of her abundant breasts. “I just love this song. I love Jose Feliciano.”

“Me too,” I said cracking a smile to lie through my teeth. “I love Christmas music. The only way today could be any more perfect is if Santa was to make an appearance and if it started snowing.”

“Yeah, Santa’s a cool dude,” she said. “I love kids, but I could never have any.”

“I don’t have any kids either,” I said. “I was an orphan.”

Yet, as soon as I told her that I was an orphan, I wondered why I said that. Perhaps, because she admitted that she loved kids and confessed that she couldn’t have any. Yet, what does being an orphan have to do with not having kids. Whatever was the connection, it eluded me.

“Me, too. I was an orphan, too,” she said with a sad smile.

Bingo! That’s a real connection. I was in now. She sized me up with a curious look, before giving me a go ahead smile. Merry Christmas to me. Oh, boy, this could be my lucky day.

“I’m Henry, Hank,” I said offering her my hand, when I really wanted to skip all the introductions and just offer her my cock.

“Susan,” she said shaking my hand and pumping it, in the way that I imagined her pumping my cock.

I couldn’t help but stare at her jiggling breasts, while she shook my hand. Oh, my God. It wasn’t much of a stretch for me to imagine her bouncing those boobs, while sitting on my cock, and me fondling those boobs, while she sucked my cock.

Accustomed to the crusty, barnacle like, any port in a storm, used and abused, kind of women, who generally hang around the bar looking for free drinks, while hoping to get lucky, she had a soft and smooth hand, as soft and as smooth as I imagined was the rest of her shapely body. Thinking better of asking her why she was alone, figuring she had a fight with her boyfriend or husband to be here drinking alone on Christmas Day, of all days, I didn’t want to go down that sad story road. Instead, hoping to keep a positive tone, I made my question more general and asked one that included me in her answer.

“Are you alone on Christmas, too?”

“Yep,” she said suddenly loosing herself in her drink with a look of sadness.

Ah, a sad woman, my kind of women. Maybe she was dumped. Maybe she was pushed out in the street and needs a place to stay. Maybe she’ll want to use me as her old to new relationship rebound lover. I can be that for her. Rebound sex is always good. Maybe she’ll think of me as her therapist, albeit her sexual therapist.

There’s nothing like injecting a bit of holiday joy and Yule time spirit in a depressed woman on Christmas, if you know what I mean. Ho! Ho! Ho! With all of those tattoos, I wondered if she had pieced nipples, too. Being that her tongue was pierced, I wondered if her clit was pierced, too. Imagining her tits bouncing up and down and side to side, so much like Santa’s belly, when laughing, I couldn’t help myself from imagining hanging ornaments on her nipples, before banging her, while singing Jingle Bells. Oh, yeah, Merry fucking Christmas to me. Suddenly, filled with the holiday spirit, I’m liking Christmas.

“Hey, Dave! Turn up the volume on the radio. We can barely hear Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. I love Burl Ives,” I said. “Would you like some company?”

“Sure, why not,” she said giving me a thoughtful look, along with a sexy smile. “It’s always nice to make a new friend.”

Friend? Is that how she thinks of me, as a new friend, instead of as a potential fuck buddy? Yet, with that sexy look she flashed me, there was more to her choice of word, when she said the word friend, instead of lover. Wanting to be her sweaty Christmastime lover, I couldn’t help myself from imagining that I’d be more than her friend. I bellied up to the bar to sit on the stool next to her.

“What are you drinking?”

“Beer,” she said.

Now normally, being a big beer drinker myself, had she been drinking beer from the bottle, I immediately would have known she was drinking beer but, judging her by her colorful tattoos, she was, no doubt, a lady of class and distinction and was drinking her beer from a glass. In the way that the light overhead lit up her face and her body, especially her abundant cleavage and partially exposed breasts, as if the bar light were high beamed headlights on those big tits, she could have been drinking a champagne cocktail for all that I paid attention to her drink in deference to her breasts.

“Two beers,” I said waving up two fingers, while being a bit disconcerted by the theme of her tattoos. “Are all your tattoos of the Devil?” I asked, while imagining her having tattoos of Satan on her tits, her ass, and her pussy.

Hoping she’d show me those tattoos that I imagined were hidden beneath her clothes, I was still thinking about her ornament adorned breasts bouncing up and down and side to side, while fucking me. Now there’s one Christmas bush that I’d love to light up and decorate with white frosting, if you know what I mean.

“Yeah, I have a thing for the Fallen Angel,” she said with a wise girl smile.

Fallen Angel? A coincidental, perfect description of her, she was my Fallen Angel. Truth be told I didn’t care if she had tattoos or not. Truth be told, never suspecting she was a vampire, I didn’t care if she was the Devil reincarnated. She was hot and I was attracted to her. I have a thing for wise girls and was even more attracted to her, after she flashed me that sexy smile. Then, when she turned to face me and uncrossed and crossed her legs, while flashing me her bright, white panties in her feeble attempt to pull down her short skirt, she had the devil not only on the outside of her body but also inside of her, too.

A big fan of a woman who purposely flashes me her bright, white panties, while making it appear accidental, this woman was so naughty that she was bad, but a good bad. Saving me from having to act like a gentleman, I love women who have been around the block a few times. The best sex I ever had was with a women who had just been released from prison. She fucked me, as if she was a sailor on shore leave, after being away at sea for too long. It’s not my fault that I’m attracted to bleached blondes with big tits, but who isn’t? No wonder why he’s so jolly, even blonde, old Mrs. Claus is busty.

Besides, she didn’t reveal that she was a vampire to me, until months later, when she was leaving me for someone else. Pegging her correctly, I thought she was just a gold digging whore and I was right. Fortunately, but for a place for her to put her head, not having much more than fool’s gold and a few sparkling nuggets, it was a good thing that I didn’t have all that much gold for her to dig.

I mean, I knew she was the type of woman who’d do anything for money, even pretend to love me. Being that it was obvious that she was, I knew she was a whore, but I didn’t care. Actually, I preferred her being a whore than being a good Christian woman, not that a good Christian woman can’t be a whore and vice versa. There are a lot of women who don’t let their sexual appetites interfere with their love of God and the Bible.

My kind of woman, holding a Bible in one hand and a cock in the other, look at all those parochial school girls who grow up to be sluts. While pretending that their still innocent virgins and nonconsensual and reluctant victims, many of those sexy, little bitches still save their parochial school uniforms to wear to the swingers’ Halloween party. Many of those parochial school women still fall to their knees not only to pray but also to suck cock. Oh, yeah, a true believer in faith in that all of my prayers will, one day, be answered by getting lucky tonight, I love women of all religions.

Now that I think more about it, a lot of the whores that I met, strippers, porn stars, and prostitutes are the nicest of women, whether they fall to their knees to pray or fall to their knees to suck my cock, I don’t care which, so long as they always and eventually do the latter, after they’re done doing the former. My only complaint with the woman, not that she was a gold digging whore, but that she was a vampire. With vampires being right up there with werewolves, zombies, and monsters, I never knew that vampires really existed, until that day she left me.

I didn’t know she had another agenda and that being to drink all my blood, after she took all my money. Truth be told, I thought she just wanted my money and not my blood, too. Truth be told, glad to be alive albeit broke, now that I know she wanted to suck me dry by sucking all my blood after stealing all my money, I’m glad to be rid of her. Now that I think more about it, in hindsight, I should have known she was a vampire from that time when I cut my thumb and she sucked the blood right out of my finger longer and harder than need be.

After she sucked me dry, I didn’t even need a bandage. Yet, in the way she sucked my finger, watching her take my thumb in her mouth and suck it, really suck it with her eyes rolling back in her head, if she was that enthusiastic about sucking my thumb, I figured she’d be even more enthusiastic sucking my cock. Boy was I right. For a gold digging, vampire, whore of a woman, she was the greatest cocksucker I ever met. Wow could she suck cock.

From that first night, Christmas night, that I took her home, she was, bar none, the best lay that I ever had. Only, in hindsight, if I didn’t know from the amazing sex we had, I should have known from the music she selected to play from my iTunes. Only Women Bleed, by Alice Cooper, If You Want Blood You Got It, by AC/DC, Hot Blooded, by Foreigner, Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, by Black Sabbath, Flesh and Blood, by Johnny Cash, and (gulp) Drain the Blood by The Rural Alberta Advantage, every song had blood in the title. Still, even then, I was more interested in her hot body than in her weird song selection.

Even after we had sex, when we were holding one another and learning more about one another, too enamored with her big tits, I still didn’t make the connection that she was a vampire. We discussed everything from politics to religion. Then, when I asked her what her favorite books and movies were, while playing with her big tits and fingering her erect nipples, I was too focused on watching her fondling my cock than listening to what she was saying.

“My favorite books are Blood Diamonds, In Cold Blood, and Book of Blood. My favorite movies are There Will Be Blood, Blood Done Sign My Name, and First Blood.”

Now that I know she’s a vampire, it makes sense. Blood, blood, blood, everything was about blood. I should have known she was a vampire, but in the sexy way she looked and how much she loved sex, how could I know she was a vampire? Even if she told me that she was a vampire, in the way she sucked my cock, I truly wouldn’t care. Truth be told, I didn’t stand a chance against her. I was doomed right from that first, deep, wet kiss.

As soon as I closed the door to my apartment, she attacked me, not with bites but with kisses. Never have I kissed a woman who was so willing, so ready, and so passionate. Never has a woman returned my kisses in the way that Susan kissed me. As if she had died and returned to life, never have I felt such purely grateful, erotic, sexual emotion. There was no question about her wanting sex. There was no question about her wanting me. The only question was, a question that I didn’t even know to ask at the time, that is, if I’d survive having sex with her.

“Are you a vampire?” That’s the only question that I should have asked her.

Wow, sex with a vampire, who knew what a wild ride that would be? What a way to go? After having sex with a vampire, if I was to die, while having sex with Susan, I’d die a happy man. I’d die with a smile on my face.

Accustomed to taking home a drunken broad and accustomed to having a wrestling match with her, before having my wicked way with her and then just receiving a lousy blowjob, I didn’t have to do that with Susan. Never slapping my hand away, never pushing me back and threatening to yell rape, she welcomed my advances as much as she did my gropes and touches. As soon as we were alone in my apartment, she allowed me to touch her anywhere and everywhere.

I kissed her while feeling her big breasts through her low cut blouse and bra. I kissed her, while sticking my hand down her top and fondling her big tits and fingering her hard nipples. I kissed her, while reaching beneath her skirt and feeling her panty clad ass and pussy. I kissed her, while pushing her panty aside and fingering her pussy.

She kissed me, while feeling my cock through my pants. She kissed me, while unzipping me and reaching her hand inside. She kissed me, while pulling out my cock and stroking me. The only time she stopped kissing me was when she fell to her knees to take me in her mouth to suck my cock.

“Oh, my God!”

Normally, I’d have to ply my impromptu pickup dates with more alcohol to get them drunk and in the mood for them to kiss me, while I groped them. Normally, I’d have to wait until the drunken women passed out, before removing their clothes. Normally, the women would have to be sleeping, before I could strip them naked and have sex with their unconscious bodies. Only, this time, Susan was the one who stripped herself naked.

“Wow!”

From the time she was naked, it was all her show. Then, she stripped me naked, too. As if she was a wild animal, as if she was a testosterone charged man, never have I had a woman strip off my clothes, after stripping off her clothes. Then, once I was naked, she kissed and kissed me, while reaching down to fondle me with her hand. She was just as excited by my nakedness as I was excited by her nakedness.

“Wow!”

Then, once I had an erection, which was nearly immediate, she fell to her knees and took me in her mouth. Oh, my God, right from the first suck, I knew this was going to be a blowjob of a lifetime. Never have I been with a woman so skilled at cock sucking.

“Suck me, Susan. Suck my cock. Blow me, baby. Oh, yeah, that’s it. Oh, my God! Wow!”

As if she had a mouthful of tongues, a powerful propeller, I could feel her tongue swirl around my cock. As if her tongue was supercharged and battery powered, she excited me with her cock sucking skills. She possessed so much control over her tongue that forget about tying cherry stems, she could tie my shoelaces with her tongue. The feel of her mouth was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Warm, wet, and electric, she was a cock sucking machine.

“Don’t cum yet,” she said removing my cock from her mouth and standing to meet my lips. “I’ll suck you again later, after you please me first,” she said sticking her tongue in my ear.

Now, most times, I’d want to get off first, before pleasing a woman, before pushing her out the door. Yet, this time, with Susan, knowing that she’d give me the blowjob of my life, wanting to sexually satisfy her, I wanted to please her first. I wanted to lick her pussy. I wanted to make love to her. I wanted to fuck her.

She pushed me back on the bed, mounted me, and sat on my face, as if my head was a horse, my face her personal saddle, and my tongue her saddle horn. Never have I wanted to lick a woman, as much as I wanted to lick her. Only, as soon as my tongue made contact with her pussy, she grabbed me by my hair moved my head around, as if it was a kitchen blender. I didn’t know my neck could do the things that it was doing without my head falling off.

Generally, grabbing a woman by her hair is something that I’ve always done and love doing, while forcing my cock in her mouth and down her throat. What’s good for the goose was certainly fun for the gander and never have I ate the pussy of a woman where she had an orgasm so fast. What usually takes twenty long, agonizing, and jaw numbing minutes took mere seconds.

“Don’t stop. Yeah, right there. Don’t stop! Oh, yeah, baby, I’m cumming. I’m cumming. I’m cumming,” she said nearly as soon as I started licking her.

Damn, she moved my tongue around her pussy so fast that I had a friction burn on my lips. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my tongue was smoking.

“Wow!”

Without taking the time to have an afterglow, a cigarette, or even a drink, I could have at least used some water, before she moved from my head, got off my face, and got on my cock. This woman was sexually possessed. If the Devil is a woman, then I just had sex with the Devil. If what I just experienced was Hell on Earth, then I plan on being bad the rest of my life because that kind of Hell is my kind of Heaven.

“Wow!”

I felt her hand reach down and direct my engorged prick in her warm, soft pussy. Once inside, she rode me, as if I was an interactive amusement ride. Always one to take charge, never have I been with a woman who so knew what she wanted and what she wanted was for me to give her orgasms, lots and lots of orgasms. I tried to roll her over and mount her, but she’d have none of that. With her tits flying high, she was humping me, jumping up and down on me, and fucking me at supersonic speed.

“Hold on, baby,” she said. “Mommy’s gonna take you for a ride.”

I tried holding back as long as I could, I tried thinking of the Red Sox, the Yankees, the Phillies, and the Tigers not making the World Series, and but all to no avail. As soon as I thought of Laura Bush sitting front row center with Ruth Ryan during a Texas Rangers game, as soon as I imagined myself having sex with the both of them, I exploded all the lust that I had for Susan in her pussy within a minute or two.

“Oh, my God. I tried holding back longer, Susan, as long as I could, but I’ve never been fucked by anyone so hard and so fast.”

“Shh, lover. You were wonderful lover,” she said giving me a long, wet kiss. “Most of the men I’ve had sex with over the years only last a few seconds. You lasted a few minutes. Thank you. I had three orgasms.”

“Three orgasms? You did?” I looked at her, as if she was drunk, crazy, or drunk and crazy, but when she nodded her head to show me a satisfied smile, I knew she enjoyed the sexual ride as much as I did.

“Who’s the man? Who’s the man?”

Never have I satisfied a woman so completely in such a short time. Wow! Only, after that, every night, sometimes multiple times a day, she wanted sex, sex, and more sex. Just as I never came across a vampire before, never have I come across a nymphomaniac either. I’d sooner believe that she was a nympho before believing than she was a vampire. To be honest, tired of sex and tired of her, too tired to even have a drink, I was tired. After having so much sex, sex, and sex, no longer having the time to have a drink, I just wanted to sleep.

Even then with her sucking the blood out of my thumb, the hot sex, and the blood laden titles of all the songs she played, the books she read, and the movies she watched, I still didn’t know she was a vampire, until that day she was leaving me for my best friend, Dwayne. That two timing, back stabbing bastard stole my woman right behind my back. Actually, he stole her in front of my face, when he asked her if she’d rather be with him than with me. The next day, she walked over to me with suitcase in hand. She didn’t have much to pack, other than my money.

“It’s been fun, Hank, but I have to go. I’ll never forget you,” she said. “You’re a special man.”

When she leaned into me, I thought she was going to kiss me good-bye, so I got ready by reaching around her to grab a handful of her ass in one hand and an abundant breast in the other. Ready now to be kissed, I closed my eyes and puckered up my lips. Then, when she ducked her head down towards my neck, I figured she was going to snuggle in for a hug in the way she does, when we spoon and sleep together. A hug, I thought, is that it? All that I’d get is a hug, after all that I did for her by giving her a place to live and food to eat and after all the superhuman sex we had every day, multiple times a day?

In the way that my dog sometimes nibbles at my earlobe, she shocked me, when she bit my neck. At first it tickled. Stupidly, I thought she was making up to me and wanted to make out with me. Stupidly, I thought she wanted to get back together. Stupidly, I thought she was horny and wanted to have sex. Then, when she bit down harder, my neck hurt. I tried to push her away but she was too strong for me. Within a few seconds, she drank enough of my blood to make me woozy and I had to sit down. Even then, after she bit me, I still didn’t believe that she was a vampire, that is, until I saw her bloody fangs and her blood red eyes. Wow, that was scary.

Now, a month later, after being bitten by a vampire, I don’t feel any different. I feel fine. I feel the same as I’ve always felt before she bit my neck and drank my blood. I mean, I don’t want to bite anyone, in the way that she bit me. I don’t think she turned me into a vampire in the way that I’ve seen others turned into a vampire by just one bite in the movies and on television.

Maybe some folks are immune to being turned into a vampire when bitten. Maybe she was just feeding on me and not trying to turn me into a vampire. Perhaps, with all the excess alcohol that I’ve consumed throughout my life, I may be one of those people who are immune to being turned into a vampire. With the alcoholic content of my blood, I imagine that I must have a lot of iron running through my veins that may prevent me from becoming a vampire.

To be honest, I don’t care to know why she didn’t turn me into a vampire. I don’t want to push my luck and find out if I’m immune or not immune to becoming a vampire. I hope to God that I never meet another vampire. I mean, what are the odds of being bitten by a vampire again? That day was the last day that I saw Susan, when she pulled away seated next to my friend, Dwayne, in his Ford pickup truck.

“Good-bye, Susan,” I said waving my condolences to my vampire lover. “Good-bye my beautiful, vampire. Sorry, Dwayne,” I said, once they rounded the corner and were out of earshot.

Good luck to him. Not much of the drinker that I am, I’m sure that Dwayne is not immune from becoming a vampire. After she turns him into a vampire, I just hope he doesn’t blame me. I hope he doesn’t return to town to bite me. He was the one who stole my girlfriend, after all. If it’s anyone’s fault that Susan turns him into a vampire, it’s his.

Besides, for sure, she’s better off with Dwayne than with me. He’s a big beef eater. He loves bloody rare meat. He loves barbeque and with barely any iron in his blood, he doesn’t drink. I’m sure with all that bloody red beef surging through his veins, without all the alcohol to interfere, he’d make her a much better victim. Just as I didn’t know she was a vampire, poor Dwayne doesn’t know she’s a vampire.