by Ian Hall
“Depends, Mandy Cross. What’s your definition of ‘alive’?”
I pulled my answer right out of my ninth grade biology book: “Something that grows, moves, and eats.”
“Okay. By that description you’re saying that an amoeba is more alive than I am.”
“If the definition fits…”
“Yet- I think. I have emotions and opinions…a sense of humor; an amoeba has none of that. Sure - the amoeba grows; that’s something I’ll never do again. As I am now, I’ll be forever. But! I do move, Mandy Cross…” He came in really close to me; I could feel his lips on my throat as he spoke, “and I certainly do eat.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe, overwhelmed with this total sense of dread. Like any minute he could just sink in and drain my life away. I wouldn’t be able to stop him. What’s weird, though - it also proved to be a kind of turn-on.
“And an amoeba couldn’t do this.”
Alan brushed his lips up against my neck with the softest, most delicate kiss. I instantly wanted more - a lot more. But that’s all he gave up just then.
My head felt all foggy, like I was drunk. He noticed.
“That’s vampire pheromone,” he told me, obviously enjoying my loopy-ness. “Helps to sedate victims; makes them a bit more willing.”
“You should bottle it.” I rubbed my eyes until tiny stars burst in them, “It’s good stuff.”
Again, Alan got super close to me. This time, I inhaled all my lungs could handle of the sweat-perfume coming off his skin.
“Mandy Cross,” he whispered.
His breath curled around my senses like a net. I was snagged and being pulled in.
“I could make you do anything I wanted to right now.”
I felt about ready to beg him to let me do all kinds of stuff to him when Alan backed completely off. My whole body tingled…especially down there. Seriously - I’d done it eight times with Craig and he never had me close to being that worked up. Now I knew why guys got so pissed off when girls “teased” them.
So, I figured I’d take matters into my own hands. I dropped the spaghetti straps of my nightshirt down and slipped the top to my waist. Alan looked at my naked breasts like you’d look at a painting in a museum - nice…but no touching.
It seemed I sat there for ages while he just scored me with his eyes.
I felt humiliated. I pulled my top back up.
“Okay. So, you didn’t come here for that. What do you actually want, Alan?”
“I want everything I just saw, Mandy Cross…and more; and I want it with you,” he told me with this really serious tone. “But, you’re mortal.”
I felt really pissed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Alan made for the window. He dropped a nice little bomb on me before he leapt out, though.
“Don’t you see? To me, you’re the one who’s less than an amoeba.”
Conflict of Interests
I didn’t sleep much that night. I lay on my bed and imagined Dorothy’s breasts on my chest, then Mary-Christine’s. I got so worked up, I had to masturbate. I woke up around two in a cold sweat, the dream of them both together still so fresh in my mind. I couldn’t help it; I did it again that did it. I fell asleep immediately afterwards, totally exhausted.
I mean, I had a case of female overload. I awoke a mess, tired, listless, and when mom suggested I take a day off, I resolutely refused and sleep-walked round the corner to the bus stop. Well, who stood there but perky Mary-Christine.
That sure as heck woke me up.
We chatted the whole way about school, and music, and television, and celebrities; it proved quite a mind meld.
My first class was English, and Alan’s empty desk sat next to me as a reminder to us all. I tried to put all negative thoughts behind me and spread out a bit and wallowed in my stud-ness. I handed in my homework, and breezed through ‘til lunch. Dorothy sat next to me again, and I caught Mary-Christine out the corner of my eye, sitting with friends.
It seems that Dorothy’s major dialogue centered on cheerleading, and considering her being a year older, talking to Dorothy kinda paled in comparison to Mary-Christine’s conversation. But Dorothy definitely had the better tits. Well, from what I could see at least.
We arranged to meet at the coffee shop again, at six, and she’d make sure that no one would phone this time. I decided to go straight home at three-thirty and change. I mean – this was our second date and I was still dressed in school burgundy.
I chose a nice leather jacket and, at the last minute, pulled a black wool hat over my red locks. I looked in the mirror; all in all, quite a change from the red-headed geek.
I set off down the road, my head in the clouds when I heard a call behind me.
“Lyman!”
I turned to see Mary-Christine.
She came bubbling up to me and gave me a peck on the cheek. She smelled of strawberries. “Where you off to?”
“Coffee shop.”
“Cool. Can I walk with you?”
Okay, come on. She didn’t ask if we could go together, she just asked if she could walk with me. What could I say?
Well, we reached the coffee shop in good time, chatting easily all the way, and were fifteen minutes early. I kind of leant against the wall outside, and Mary-Christine stood with me, still bubbling, still perky. We were standing next to a kind of sticky-out window, sort of hidden from the street in a way, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dorothy walking our way. With a guy.
“Crap,” I said under my breath, looking at Mary-Christine, then Dorothy again.
Mary-Christine followed my gaze. “Are you here to meet her?” Mary-Christine asked. “You sat with her at lunch.”
I turned, expecting a slap or a fit of pique or something. She just giggled, and pulled me into the wall, out of sight of the approaching couple.
Well, my body pushed Mary-Christine into the wall, and every bit of my body felt her presence. She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me closer.
“This is fun,” she hissed, and started planting kisses on my lips and nose between more giggles.
It might have been fun for her, but I stirred, like, down there.
Mary-Christine was still kissing me when Dorothy got real close. I heard their footsteps and the sound of conversation.
“…don’t care. It can’t be that difficult.” I recognized the guy’s voice as Jim Creary; one of ‘the six/seven’, so automatically already in Dorothy’s friend group.
“I don’t want to,” Dorothy replied.
Mary-Christine had stopped laughing, and eavesdropped too.
“We don’t care, Dee,” Jim said in a hissy kind of way. “We need to find out what Alan saw in him. There must be some reason he kept him around.”
“But, Honey, I only want you.”
“It’s only a kiss, Dee. Do it and find out what he tastes like. We’ll know more then.”
She paused. “Okay. Only for you.”
“That’s my girl.”
Then a silence, which could only have been a kiss. Then I heard the coffee shop doorbell go, and assumed she had walked inside.
Their whole conversation had been an eye-opener, if ever there was one. For some unknown reason the ‘seven’ wanted to know about my ‘taste’, and although I kinda liked the idea of being kissed by Dorothy, I didn’t like the idea of being used.
I looked down at a silent Mary-Christine, expecting to have to explain the whole thing, but she had a serious look on her face.
“Don’t go in there,” she said. “Stay here with me.”
Oh crap, I thought. Jealousy had reared its ugly head within two days of me having two girls…marvelous.
“I mean it, Lyman. Don’t go in there. She’s going to kiss you and taste your blood; that’s not good.”
“She’s going to kiss me, not bite me.” I tried to pull myself away, but she still held on tight to my jacket collars.
I struggled with the whole situation, and it probably
showed.
I thought of Dorothy licking Alan’s blood, and now Jim Creary wanted her to kiss/taste me.
So, I gave myself a shake, and I did what any red-blooded male would have done.
I went for the biggest tits.
“I gotta go in, Mary-Christine. I said I’d be here,” I hissed at her. “I can’t stand her up.”
“Fair enough.” With a theatrical flashing of her fingers, she let my collars go. “Your funeral. Just don’t let her kiss you.”
I turned, and Mary-Christine grabbed my hat from my head. “Disguise.”
My red hair erupted on my head like the biggest afro in the world.
With more regret than I thought I’d be feeling, I walked through the coffee shop door.
The date actually turned out to be good fun, considering she’d pledged herself to Jim Creary just minutes ago. We chatted for a while, and I caught a few glimpses of Mary-Christine outside doing the shaky finger “don’t do it” sign, and tried not to laugh.
“Do you want to walk in the park?” Dorothy eventually asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
I enjoyed her machinations in a detached way, watching her maneuver her way to holding my hand, then sitting on a park bench, then going to kiss me.
I wanted to stop her and asking why she wanted to taste me, but when she got close, and breathed on me, I lost all will to say ‘no.’ I slipped my hand round her waist, feeling the underside of her breast on my arm. Within seconds we were necking, our tongues diving into each other’s mouths. I felt utterly intoxicated by her.
Then, suddenly, she bit my tongue.
“Ow!” I yelled, and pulled away.
Dorothy screamed.
I ran my tongue round my mouth a bit, and it seemed to be all there, but she’d bit it hard. I could taste the blood in my mouth.
Dorothy, on the other hand, did not react the way I’d thought she would. After the scream, she jumped up, holding her mouth, spitting on the sidewalk. “It burns, dammit!” Then she spat at me. “That burns, you bastard!”
I saw Jim come running up to us. He didn’t look in a good mood. “What the fuck happened here?” Dorothy pulled him back from me. “What happened, Dee? What did he do?” he almost snarled at me.
“It burned, Jim,” she seemed close to tears. “It burned.”
Jim’s face paled slightly, and he backed off a few steps, helped by Dorothy’s pressure. “You stay the fuck away from her!” he spat at me, but the force of his presence had gone; his blustering held nothing but an empty threat, and we both knew it.
He’d gone from confident ‘I’ll knock your head off’ jock to ‘we’ve got to get out of here’ scardy-cat in seconds.
The two walked away without looking back. I don’t know who dragged who.
I sat, flummoxed.
I don’t know who that pointy-toothed, blood-sucking dork thinks he is. I’m not even as good as a G.D. amoeba? Oh, in case you’re not offended on my behalf…be offended for yourself. ‘Cause he was talking about all humans. Not that it matters to me anymore, but I was still human at the time.
Wasn’t it enough that he’d killed my cat? Now I was expected to take insults, too? Needless to say, I didn’t want anything more to do with Alan after that. The next night he came back just like nothing had happened; I sent him away and kept the window shut, locked and secured with one of those wooden things you put in the slidey part.
But Alan McCartney’s jerky-ness proved persistent; he came by my window every night.
And I could only keep the shunning treatment up for about a week before I caved. What can I say? With Cami otherwise occupied, it promised to be a lonely summer.
The night after I started talking to him again, things really got bizarre. He brought me a present. It is kind of a gross story but don’t judge until you hear the whole thing…
Alan sat outside, knocking on the glass; usually I’d just ignore him but this time I looked up. He had this little box - like the size you’d put a coffee mug in - all wrapped up in like Christmas paper. Bow and everything. His eyes were all sad and puppy dog at me, so I crossed the room and let him in.
To be truthful, I felt really glad to see him. I’d missed that vampire like nobody’s business. But, I still totally refused to let myself smile at him. I had to fake the straight face, but I felt determined to make him believe I was super mad still.
“I brought you something,” he said, holding up the box.
I totally pouted at him, “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Okay. Curiosity got the better of me. So, I grabbed the box and took it over to my bed. I still didn’t smile. Didn’t even thank him.
My mother taught me to make a wish as you untied a bow from a present. I closed my eyes and wished for something fancy, sparkly, and expensive. Boy was I way, WAY off.
You’re not going to believe this. Lying there, all curled up and dead, lay this gross, brown mouse. I freaked! I dropped the box, screamed, and jumped up on my bed - like those old ladies you see on TV, standing on the table ‘cause there’s a mouse running around. That was me, ‘cept, of course, this mouse wasn’t running around.
So, naturally, my parents bust in and they’re all hysterical because I’m hysterical. Soon as the door opened, I realized that they were gonna catch me with this dude in my room in the middle of the night. You should have seen their faces.
My mom went for me, climbing up on the bed and putting herself in front of me like a shield. She yelled stuff like, “Stay away from my daughter, you pervert!”
Dad went right for Alan, arms out like he intended to rip him in two. But, Alan…Alan was a vampire.
I think you get what that means.
Before I knew what had happened, right there in front of me and Mom, Dad’s head went rolling across the floor like bowling ball. Blood went everywhere, squirting in crazy arcs all over the place. I don’t know what Mom thought she would do; I guess she’d gotten too freaked out to know herself. But she jumped right off my bed and swooped up Dad’s head like she was gonna reattach it. That’s when Alan got her.
It was over in seconds.
Their corpses looked just like two mannequins that had been taken apart. And blood had been fired everywhere.
I threw up all over my bed.
Alan came and got me. He pressed my head in between his hands, trying to get me to look at his eyes. All I could do was scream and try to push him away - not that it did any good.
“Calm down, Mandy Cross. This is a good thing; the best thing that could have happened to you…”
“The best thing?” I roared across the half-inch gap between our faces. “You just killed my parents!”
I didn’t get out the rest I tried to say (like, “You mother fucker! I’m going to fucking kill you!”) because of the vampire pheromone he hit me with. The words stayed in my head, tumbling around like marbles in a can.
Next thing I knew, Alan pulled my face into his shoulder. Once the vampire stuff he sweats got to my nose, I went limp. Then, as I kept breathing it in, I went all the way from crying fitfully to grinding myself against him. I could totally feel that he enjoyed it, too.
“I want you to do something for me, Mandy Cross. Are you listening?”
I wanted to bite him. How weird is that? A human who’s just dying to bite a vampire? But, I could do nothing besides moan and nod my foggy head. He could get me to do anything at that point. And he freaking knew it.
“Taste this.”
Alan had the mouse in his hand. He bit into it until a bead of red popped up from the brown fur. He brought it to my lips. I can’t believe I’m telling anybody this, but, I did it. First I felt a little shy about it; I just dabbed the tip of my tongue into it. Then Alan grabbed me by the butt and pushed me against him; he felt so hard down there, and I was physically hurting to get it.
So, I sucked on the wound and a bunch more blood came out. I don’t know how else to put it - it was like drinking sex. I’d n
ever had an orgasm before but I did then; and I knew exactly what it was. No mistaking. The most powerful thing I’d ever felt. I almost fainted.
“And that’s just a fucking rodent,” Alan whispered so velvety; once his voice hit my ear, I came again.
“Cats, dogs…they’re even better. The bigger the kill, the more exciting the flavor.”
Then he looked at the pieces of bodies flung out all over my room. “And you want to know what’s best of all, Mandy Cross?”
I almost started to squirm away, tell him off, and just let him tear me apart too. But, Alan breathed into my face. It was like that stuff his skin secretes times ten-thousand.
Since they were my parents, I tried to say no. It was a pathetic try, though.
“I’m not a vampire,” I told him.
“Not yet…”
Alan bit into his wrist just like he’d done to the mouse. The smell of his blood hit me like a bouquet of roses, all powerful and sexy. When he brought his wrist to my mouth…I couldn’t get enough. I sucked ‘til my jaws were sore.
Then he swept up a bunch of my hair, holding it painfully tight. I’ll never forget the way he stopped - just for a sec - and looked me in the eyes. He smiled like he’d just won a prize. I felt his fangs sink into my neck. The intense pain felt freaking amazing; I never wanted it to end.
It did end, though. Kind of like a spinning ride that doesn’t just gradually slow down – instead, it just all of a sudden stops and leaves you totally disoriented.
When he pulled back and looked at me, his eyes were dark and evil. His malevolent smile seemed straight out of my worst nightmare. And I didn’t need a mirror to know I had the same dark eyes and the same wicked smile. That’s when I realized what had just happened.
I’d been changed.
Alan turned my head to make me look down at the bits and pieces sprawled over my bedroom floor. They weren’t anything to me right then; just body parts.
Blood. Food. Red pools, glistening, all liquidy, made my whole body surge with hunger.
“Let’s celebrate your rebirth, Mandy Cross.”
Alan took me by the hand and stepped off my bed to where our feast lay spread out. It was an all-out banquet.
Mary-Christine came over to the park bench and sat down. “Not what you expected to happen?”
