by Ava Frost
Eww. There it was. The bomb of yucky that I knew had more detonating to do.
“His name was Antonio. After him was George. George was no looker but he could scratch every itch you could possibly have. He moved like a snake. Slithering up and down and putting me in positions I forgot about with old age. Last week, I was out with Ken. He was no Barbie doll. Let me tell you. He had a face like mine and an ass like Jehovah.” Finishing her spiel she eyed me over her shoulder, making the cigarettes bob to unheard music. “Try the site. I promise you. It’s for any woman, every woman, and all women.”
I was almost positive I did not want to be in a place where Linda frequented. In fact, I was so against that when I went home, bored per usual and scrolling on Facebook, I realized I had nothing to lose. So I googled it. The website was number one, the few pages on the site were search results two through four and the fifth result was a site comparing other websites. I scrolled a bit to see if there were any negative bits or one sign to abort this mission. Finding none, I clicked the link.
The website was very classy. It was reminiscent of another time. The writing was script and elegant, in bold red, with black borders. Welcome to Super Natural Dating. New here? Make an account or sign in. I hated websites like this. You couldn’t see a thing unless you made an account.
I huffed in irritation but clicked new account.
Name: Veronica Lewis
Email: [email protected]
I saw no need to use my business account.
Age: 27
Astrological Sign: Sagittarius
Favorite Color: Sunshine yellow
Favorite Book: The Martian – Andy Weir
Perfect date: Champagne, fireplace, and casual talking
Perfect day: Warm enough to sit on the back porch watching the stars without a jacket
Favorite flower: lily
Define your perfect man: Non-cheating
I decided I started off wrong and tried again.
Define your perfect man: Funny, easy going, taller than six feet, lover of books and curvy women
Then a box popped up asking my racial preference. I had none.
Thank you so much for inviting Super Natural Dating to mediate the meeting of the love of your life. Check your email to confirm your account and the men tab to look for something you like. Send a wink for interest and a heart to ask for a date. Your happiness is our top priority so you’ll be matched in 24 hours. Happy love finding.
How audacious. Can one really promise every member they will be matched in 24 hours? That’s impossible, right? I guess not if the matching is bad. No harm in looking, though. So I clicked the men tab to see the possible prospects. There were thousands. Who knew this was a popular site, I had never heard of it before Linda mentioned it. A quick scroll proved Linda right. I saw men of all ages, 22, who loves skateboarding, 55 and prefers dogs to cats or a 34-year-old who liked dancing. To be honest, all this promise was overwhelming. How could I know what was right for me? I mean what did I want? I didn’t know. I didn’t want a boyfriend. It was too soon and I did not want another Tyrone repeat, so I supposed I was looking for a rebound. Yea! A rebound. That’s exactly what would fix me. A rebound pick me up was just what Momma ordered and made sending winks and whatever the hell else the little note said to do, feel easier than before.
Chapter 5
****Gregory****
What the fuck is wrong with me? I was looking down at my sad, limp member wondering what I could do to get it up before the scantily clothed woman before me got naked. It’s been 300 years. I knew the drill. Buy her a drink, seduce her mentally, bring her to my guest bedroom, sex her and ask her to leave before sunup. It was simple. It was routine. It was not doing my limp dick any good. She turned to me, thinking I found her body less than satisfactory.
“Maybe I should speak into the mic,” She whispered, bending down to take me into her mouth. I knew Delilah could suck head. She could suck a nail out of a coffin if I asked her. She was that good. Hot and wet throat that would swallow me readily. Yet, the feeling was just that, a feeling. It did nothing to excite me. I pushed her back to jack myself off before I embarrassed myself any further. “Just a second babe.”
She returned to undress the few items she still had on. A blue matching bra and thong. It matched the blue in her eyes, dark as a storm on the horizon and just as electrifying against her skin. “What’s wrong Daddy? Did I do something?” She pouted at my dick.
If there was one thing you don’t do to a dick is pout. Why was a sexy woman pouting in the direction of my dick? My frustration was paramount and I realized if I let her leave without maximum pleasure this would be all over the gossip dark net before I could spell impotence. Before she could say anything else, I flipped her upside down. It really wasn’t hard. I mean shapeshifters lift weights but without working out, she weighed no more than 100 pounds. She grabbed my ankles and walking her to the couch, I tongue kissed her red bud. Under the dim lights in my living room, I could see she was wet, glistening for me.
Her moaning wasn’t distracting enough because her hands had found my dick and again were pumping. I appreciated the effort I really did. She shrieked when I, again, with no notice, flipped her right side up then threw her onto my guest bed. She bounced once. Thankfully, she was a vampire, no blood rushing to the head. Her heels still on, I yanked her feet to me and proceeded to give her second lips mouth to mouth.
“Oh, Gregory.” She moaned loudly.
I glanced up, happy to see her red hair wild and her head back in ecstasy. At least one of us was having fun.
I should be about to shoot with excitement. I had no preference. Women were women. Red-headed, blonde, short, curvy, white, or black, I had no preference. This one happened to have creamy skin and shoulder length curly red hair. She was shaved everywhere but one small reddish orange strip leading to her pink bud, just the way I liked it. She smelled like ginger and from previous experience I knew had no problem being on her knees. So what was my dilemma?
My inner monologue would have continued had she held out for her orgasm a little longer. I really can’t blame her, I am magnificent in bed. Still, with no time to recover or get a stiff one, I was, as they say, SOL, shit out of luck.
A bit out of breath, considering she didn’t need to breathe she said, “you’re next.”
As a last resort to recover my reputation and abort this mission, I yawned. “Actually, I’m tired.”
There she was pouting again.
“But I wanted more.” I thought to myself, don’t we all sweetie.
But instead I feigned sincerity, “I’m sorry,” I stumbled, struggling to remember her name. Bedding her twice had not improved my memory of her name.
“It’s Sheila.” She huffed. Dammit, she caught on. Here I thought her name was Delilah.
“I’m sorry, Sheila. I had a long day and I have a long one tomorrow. Let’s reschedule.”
She hissed and flashed me her teeth. God damn. I just cannot catch a break. An angry woman is a challenge, doable but challenging. An angry vampire woman is less so doable and more challenging.
“Who is she?” She asked, standing over me as I lay in bed. I could appreciate the view although I was losing my patience. Any woman naked and in heels can have 5 minutes of my time.
“What the hell are you talking about woman?”
“Is this your way of kicking me out so you can bed another woman?”
The truth about the difference between women and vampire women is there are no differences between them. One is more prone to go crazy faster than the other. The end. You’re welcome.
“Sheila, lay down. Come here. You’re stressed.” If she wasn’t, I sure was. I had a lot of thinking to do. I needed to consult my inner caveman and we needed to have a discussion as of yesterday. Where, oh where, has my mojo gone? Oh where, oh where, can he be?
She burst into tears. Crying made words altogether incomprehensible but add in fangs and it’s just pointless.
“Stop this. Stop this right now.” I had had enough and my voice conveyed it. Plus, she wasn’t about to ruin my sheets with her ridiculous tantrum. She stopped crying and bless the ageless vampire beauty, looked stunning save the few drops of blood on her cheek. Vampires cried blood, there weren’t any other fluids in there. “Come here,” I demanded with the added effect of opening my arms to her.
If I didn’t remember now, I would do a damn good job of reminding myself. Rule number 3, no second dates. I don’t know why I thought this girl was worth breaking rule number two. As she tucked her head on my shoulder and aligned her naked body to mind, I suddenly remembered. She had woken me up with incredible head and she let me do her anal with no complaints. At the time, it seemed worth inviting her back.
Since I was not ruled to live in fear of the sun, I lay awake as she fell into a death-like sleep. I pondered my rules and the life they governed. Rule 1: There is no such thing as true love. This was a personal belief and a blatant rebellion against everything I am. I am a shape shifter. The animal can only be determined by the blood lineage you belong to. I am of the lion family. My brother and sisters turn into lion and lioness when they meet their true love. Just awful, isn’t it? Fate playing a royally fucked up joke on whoever was on the other side of that love. This is something I know but do not accept. I believe I can control it, whenever it happens. But the “it” in question will not happen as I have turned my back on love. It does not exist. If it did, I would protest it.
Rule number 2: Bed any woman, they’re all the same. This rule has proven itself true over so many times I have lost count. Pickiness is seen as a luxury of the elite. I disagree, they do themselves a disservice judging books by their covers. Rule number 3: never bed the same woman twice. I have found that this fosters some kind of clinginess that I cannot afford and am not socially adept enough to handle kindly. My sense of chivalry stops at opening doors for women. I sighed heavily. The shit would hit the fan tomorrow. I knew it and if Sheila was smart she wouldn’t act rashly. But she wasn’t smart. She was a woman and sometimes emotions just got in the way.
I woke to the smell of bacon. One of the greatest smells to wake up to. I groggily threw myself out of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. There, my reflection was blurry but coming to a lifelike stillness under the fluorescence. Brown hair, standing on ends, but fully and wavy. My lips were a little more round than typical for the average white man and all the better for kissing. Eyes, still as piercing gray as the day before. I inspected myself, from head to toe. This was another routine instilled in me but not willingly. I learned it in the army. Although I let my hair grow out, the army was still very present in the way I folded the covers and sheets down so tightly you could bounce a quarter off it and the anal way I kept my five o’clock shadow down to nothing.
“Breakfast is ready.” Damn that vampire hearing. I wasn’t ready to face the music yet. Perhaps I could make it through breakfast.
I turned the corner of my loft to behold two creamy and satin globes in the air. Sheila was bent over doing something in the oven and damn her if I didn’t want to do something to her ass again. Oh shit, I became excited noting my morning wood. Putting it up against her, I mumbled good morning.
“Well somebody is happy to see me,” She said, moving the tray of bacon to the cooling rack. More so happy to be awake, but let’s not tell her that.
“Bend over.” If the walls could talk, they would have praised her enthusiasm in following orders. No words were spoken. There was just me spitting in silence as I coated my hand, then my shaft and slowly penetrated that ass.
Everything was so tight. I wanted to wallow in the tightness but I wasn’t sure how long this woody was last. So I pretended it was the last seconds of the fourth quarter and rode her like I had nothing to lose. This is the true benefit of fucking a vampire, you can do so as hard as you like and they will never break. Lest I wielded a stake or silver. Sheila didn’t utter one word as she moaned encouragement and spread her hands flat on the floor for leverage. Then the nut that eluded me last night rose up through my toes and I shot all of it inside her beautiful ass. To show my gratitude, I smacked both cheeks hard. Hearing her yell and feeling her clenched on me, squeezing out the last of my cum made the last seconds even better. It was way faster than normal but a release nonetheless.
“Words fail my gratitude.”
She stood up, unashamed and smiled. “Happy to oblige. You want some orange juice.” I nodded, looking around for my cell phone and scrolling through the evening news.
“There’s scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice and a fruit salad.”
Although it wasn’t morning, she and I had both woken up. It was actually a little after 6 pm. The sun was down and she was about to go home. Although she may not have known it yet.
“I’ll have it all.” She made my plate in silence. It was golden.
“What are your plans tonight?” she asked, sipping on a glass of blood mixed a bit with orange juice. Where she pulled that bag from, I could not tell you because I made it my business to never stock for other entities. That gave the sense that I was hospitable when I was nothing of the sort.
“I plan to go where the night takes me.” It was a non-committal response that subtly said that I was leaving and, therefore, you should too.
“But I was hoping we could play a little more.” Her pouting was getting old.
“Sheila, it’s always hard to say goodbye but we must.”
“Goodbye?” She asked she seemed confused.
“Yes. Goodbye. You will find someone great one day but I am not him. It’s not you. It’s me. I have commitment issues. This has been fun and all that jazz. Say whatever makes you feel better about leaving.”
There was nothing but silence and perhaps I should have known to watch her instead of my phone. But, I was not as smart as I should have been so the now empty glass she was drinking from smashing against my head was a surprise.
“Damn you Gregory White the third. I hate you. You’re such an asshole.” She was moving at the speed of light dressing and collecting her belongings, I couldn’t have been happier. “I thought we had something. I heard you were a dick but I also heard you were hung like a horse but did I listen? No. Fuck you mister and your amazing dick too.” She screamed as she let herself out of my loft. If that wasn’t an amazing evacuation, I don’t know what to tell you. She let herself out and on the way complimented my dick. That’s a job well done my friend. It’s not like the glass hurt. If I wanted, I could leave the pieces on the floor. They would never break the skin, but I’m a neat freak, blame the army, so I had to clean it up.
Chapter 6
Finally, in silence, I pondered my predicament. Something is wrong with my mojo as I never, even occasionally suffer from a flaccid dick. I called my free therapist, otherwise known as my best friend, Thaddeus.
“Talk to me.” A deep baritone voice said.
“Thad. I got a problem.” I responded as I swept up the glass.
Unlike me, Thaddeus was a dragon. Yup. In his human form, he was about 6’7, complexion resembling something Latino, and covered in a large dragon tattoo that started at his lower back and trailed in a zig-zagg up his entire back and down his front all the way down to his dick. It has been rumored the dragon head of his tattoo is supposed to be eating his dick. Others have said his dick is centered to be the dragon’s tongue. As I have no interest in his dick, I cannot tell you. However, I like him. Being a dragon means he has lived for several years and, as a result, knows his shit.
“Let me guess. You banged a stripper and now she’s convinced she’s in love with you and can’t get you out of her mind.” He joked.
“No, you idiot, though you aren’t too far from the truth. This morning, I had a clinger. But that was easy in comparison to my real issue.”
“Talk to me.” He was very serious when it came to problems amongst his friends. Apparently dragons were very clingy with things they deemed as thei
rs. Something I had no trouble imagining as dragons in their animal state have caves of things they horde and protect.
“I can’t get it up,” I said.
He laughed. I don’t know what I was expecting but laughing wasn’t it.
“Nice try funny guy. But if I’m betting money on who can’t get it up, my money’s on John.”
John was the third in our paranormal trio. He was a zombie. Now let’s get some things clear as people like to typecast my friend. John is a zombie, not a ghoul. Zombies are reanimated dead bodies, that’s it. Ghouls are demonic like things that eat human beings and can’t be stopped unless beheaded. John is a nice guy. I can’t tell you how many people stereotype him because of those awful human movies. Well except The Walking Dead, that’s a great TV show. I just can’t knock it.
“I’m serious T. I’ve lost my mojo.” I’m sure my voice portrayed my dismay.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean this fine girl was sucking me so good, I could have whispered a prayer and nothing. Not one rise for the occasion.”
“Maybe she wasn’t as good as you thought.”
“What? I been banging chicks on a daily for about 300 years and you know this Thad. She was top shelf, quality head. She even swallowed my balls at one point.”
“Well damn.” He was quiet for a moment. “Then what the hell has gotten into you?”
I shrugged as if he could see me. “I don’t know.”
“Has anything changed in the last couple of weeks? What were you doing the day your dick was rebelling against spectacular head?”
I thought on his words. Nothing had changed for me. I went to work, where I was the head of a glass manufacturing company. We manufactured special glass that protected vampires from the sun. It didn’t mean they could go outside but it was less dangerous sleeping in your home or driving in your car. It was a very lucrative business. Having started my company from scratch but been running it for centuries, I had amassed serious wealth. I spent most of my days traveling to new places and trying new things. So in short, nothing was different.
