by Todd Gregory
Without comment, Atanasio pressed closer to Reid, revealed his teeth, and produced two menacingly sharp fangs.
Startled, Reid jumped back, hitting his head on the fence behind the bleachers. His heart dropped to his stomach, fluttering madly like a caged wild bird. He quickly looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had. The other patrons were preoccupied with their own comparatively pedestrian nocturnal encounters.
Retracting his fangs, Atan placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he said in a calming voice. “Don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm.”
Reid regarded the intriguing fang-bearer with a mixture of morbid fascination and nervous excitement. Reasoning he would be safe in the crowded bar, he found himself more curious than fearful. “How?” he asked in a slightly shaky voice.
“Did I become a vampire?” Atan added.
Reid nodded intently.
“It was in St. Augustine,” Atanasio explained. “I was born there in 1794 while the Spanish still held the city. You can’t imagine how difficult it was growing up a ‘mariposa’ in such a strict Catholic environment. From the time I was fifteen, I would walk the streets late at night hoping to meet others like myself. It was rare, but the few times I did, there was so much guilt and shame and fear that I never saw them again. Then, on my twenty-third birthday, it happened.”
As Atan’s voice grew more passionate, Reid listened raptly engrossed in the tale of Atan’s terrible transformation.
Atanasio and friends had celebrated till after midnight at the rustic home of Josef Buchanti. The small wooden dwelling had not only served as Buchanti’s residence but also as a local tavern. After much draught and revelry, Atan had bid his friends farewell. Drunk with wine and desire, Atan had headed for the Plaza de la Constitución in the heart of the city.
The large rectangular plaza, carpeted with grass and landscaped with live oak trees, had derived its name from an eighteen-foot monument standing in the west end of the park. The monument, a white obelisk constructed of coquina stone, had been built in 1813 to commemorate the Spanish Constitution of 1812. So named the Plaza de la Constitución, the park had been the hub of St. Augustine’s public life with its common well and marketplace. The marketplace, a long stone structure with a colonnade supporting a red tiled peak, had bordered the east end of the plaza. Facing the park’s north side had been the parish church of St. Augustine, not yet a Basilica Cathedral. Overlooking the west perimeter had been the Government House. The two-story Government House, a stately mansion with masonry walls and a second-floor balcony that spanned the length of the building, had sheltered beneath its shingled gable roof the offices of the colonial ministry.
Passing by the Government House, Atan had entered the deserted plaza. Far beyond the witching hour, the public square had been veiled in a shroud of night save for the glow of the full moon. Like a lighthouse beacon, the moon had illuminated the tip of the obelisk, which cast a long deep shadow across the damp lawn. Within that black velvety silhouette, Atan had discerned the barely visible figure of a cloaked stranger. The mysterious man had waved a hand gesturing for Atan to follow.
“I remember being afraid.” Atan admitted. “I sensed danger. But the liquor and the fire in my groin got the better of me. So I followed him.”
With his sable cloak flapping like wings, the intriguing enticer had moved so swiftly that Atan had had to run to keep pace. Nervous sweat dampening his brow, Atan had paused by the well. Leaning against the weathered rock base of the well, he had thirstily eyed the wooden bucket that hung from the slanted Spanish moss–covered pine roof. But there had been no time for Atan to drink. His design had left the plaza. Breathing hard in the breezeless, humid air, Atan had dashed from the well to overtake the stranger. The salacious seducer had led Atan to the parish church.
Built of sand-colored stone and shingled with vermillion Spanish tiles, the face of the church had risen one hundred feet. The top of the front wall was crowned by a freestanding Mission-style façade that towered above the roof. Within arched openings of the façade, six exposed bells had hung silent in pyramid fashion. Far below the bells at ground level, five carved coquina steps led to two heavy oak doors framed by Doric columns bracing a circular arch. Perched just above the arch, the marble statue of St. Augustine faithfully guarded the entrance.
Feeling a tinge of guilt, Atan had stopped to behold the sacred figure. The saintly statue seemed to look down on him disapprovingly from its pedestal. Denying his shame, Atan had turned away in time to spy his lure slipping round the side of the church. Lust outweighing reason, he had pursued. Hidden in the shadow of that holy edifice, Atan, trembling with fear and anticipation, had approached his waiting obsession.
“Even in the dark I could tell he was very handsome. And I remember thinking I would be cursed for doing this in the shadow of God’s house. But I wanted him so badly I didn’t care.”
Panting heavily and heart pounding, Atan had stopped directly in front of the tempter, so close that their bodies had nearly touched. The clandestine man had pulled Atan tightly into his arms and wrapped his cloak around him. In the crush of those arms, Atan had pressed against him, scared and excited at the same time.
“Then I felt his fangs pierce my neck. I tried to scream but could not. I could feel the life draining out of me. In panic, not knowing what else to do, I bit into his throat and drank. And drank. And drank till he pulled away and pushed me to the ground. I could hear his devilish laughter as he disappeared into the darkness. I lay there weak and dying. Somehow, I knew I had to get out of sight.”
Determined to hide, Atan had struggled unsteadily to his feet. Feeling his way along the cold stone wall, he had staggered to the front of the parish, crawled up the steps, and pushed open the heavy door. Passing under the arch, he had entered the lofty church. The Classical-style church, adorned with several fifteen-foot stained glass windows and dark wood beams supporting a peaked ceiling, was dimly lit by candles that lined the side walls. Their dancing flames glinted on the edges of the polished pews that all faced the large crucifix that hung on the ochre-colored back wall. From the wood cross, the face of the porcelain Christ, flickering from the glimmer of candles beneath, gazed sadly upon the red and gold brocade draped altar below.
Averting his eyes, Atan had not been able to look at the crucifix. Christ, he had believed, had forsaken him. Keeping his head bowed, Atan had grabbed a candle to penetrate the gloom. Supporting himself by leaning on the pews, he had slowly stumbled forward until he reached the back of the church. Here, he had found a narrow door that led to a windowless storeroom. In the room, there had been over a dozen wine casks. Closing the door behind him, Atan had discovered several upright casks lined side by side along the rear wall. He had inspected the casks and found one that was empty. Prying open the cover, Atan, with his last remaining strength, had climbed into the vintage damp barrel. With the chill of death expelling the warmth of life, Atan had pulled the lid shut, entombing himself in that cold, sunless cavity.
“I hid unnoticed for two days. That cask became my grave. For there, I slept and I died and I was reborn. On the second night, I rose from the cask. I left the room and walked down the aisle with my back to God and to Man. I emerged from the church a new vampire, frightened and hungry and…” Realizing he might say too much, Atan abruptly ended his account. “Well, that’s enough of that.”
Fascinated, Reid persisted. “What about your family?”
“I never returned to my family. How could I? I hid by day and prowled by night. To my family and friends, I had vanished without a trace. Then, in 1821, when Spain sold Florida to the U.S., the Spanish left and so did my family. But I, of course, remained.” Once again, he flashed that dangerously charming smile and quipped, “And here I am today. Talking to you.”
“Wow, that’s quite a story.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Atan continued playfully. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”
“What!” cried Reid, taken aback.
“You mean sex?”
“Yes. Even vampires have their needs.”
“Yeah, sucking blood!”
“Not to kill. It’s like a drug. Sucking blood during sex heightens the pleasure for both.”
“Really. Pleasure? But aren’t you, you know…dead?”
“Can the dead do this?” Atan ran his hand firmly along Reid’s inner thigh. When Reid stiffened in apparent discomfort, Atan laughed provocatively.
Reid stopped Atan’s hand from pressing further but did not remove it.
“So, you’re telling me you can still have sex?” exclaimed Reid, incredulous.
“Sure. It feels good, too.” Looking down at himself, he bragged, “And believe me. You wouldn’t be disappointed.”
At that, Reid rolled his eyes.
“Of course,” he explained. “I can’t get off in the human sense.”
“Oh, you’re human all right,” retorted Reid as he pushed Atan’s hand away.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” countered Reid.
Atan shrugged with a conceited snicker.
“You laugh, don’t you? And you sure as hell get horny. And I bet you cry, too. And get mad. And jealous. Hate…And love. That’s what makes you human. Not whether you’re dead, undead, immortal or whatever you are.”
“Touché,” conceded Atan. He leaned seductively closer to Reid and whispered, “So, do you want to sleep with a vampire?”
Once again, Reid was lured into those dark, hypnotic eyes. Drawn ever closer, he leaned forward, teetering on the edge of the bleacher as Atan’s cool lips brushed his. Feeling that chill, breathless mouth, Reid started with a gasp, sat upright, and threw up his hands.
“No, I…I don’t think so!” Reid stuttered. “I really should be going.”
With that, Reid jumped up and headed for the door. Looking back, he caught Atan’s spellbinding eyes and bewitching smile. Atanasio called to him.
“Perhaps, next time, when the moon is full.” He grinned.
Reid rushed through the door, pushing and bumping his way through the crowd. As quickly as he could, he left the bar. Practically running to his car, he kept looking back over his shoulder, half expecting Atan to be following. But there was no one. Heart racing, he got into his car and in near panic inspected the backseat. It was empty. He locked the doors, started the car, turned on the headlights and sped home.
At home, Reid tossed and turned in his unlit bedroom. In the dark, he was haunted by the specter of Atan’s supernatural smile and stirred by the virility of his touch. The spot where the evocative vampire had groped him tingled as if his hand had never been withdrawn. Placing his own hand over the spot, Reid drifted into a fitful sleep and dreamed.
In his dream, he was still in his own bed. Beside the bed rested a black wooden coffin. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he surveyed the casket and ran his hand along the lid. As he did, the lid was suddenly flung wide. From the open coffin, two muscular glowing arms reached out, clutching him with strong masculine hands. Caught in their powerful grip, Reid was pulled into the coffin. Within the confines of that burial box, he was held tightly. Crushed against a brawny chest, he once again faced those hypnotic eyes and that mesmerizing grin. As the grin grew wider, sharp fangs sprang from upper incisors and lustful laughter burst forth, reverberating against the sides of the narrow enclosure. The wanton laughter echoed louder and louder as the pointed incisors came closer and closer. With those fangs almost upon him, the lid of the casket snapped shut.
The closing slam of the dream coffin woke Reid with a start. Heart pounding, he hastily scanned the brightening room. Streams of early-morning sunlight revealed he was alone. Assured he was safe, he sat up in the middle of the bed still shaking. Amid the tangled sheets, he trembled panting and sweating and, to his astonishment, aroused. Unsettled by this, he got up, walked into the bathroom, and splashed water on his face.
“Maybe the whole night was a dream,” he said aloud. “It couldn’t have been a vampire!”
Making a concerted effort to push the very chance of a vampire from his thoughts, Reid followed his usual Sunday ritual of household chores and preparation for those tedious Monday-morning-back-to-work blues. Still, whenever there was a lull in his routine, the haunting face of Atanasio flashed in his mind’s eye and the imprint of his hand tickled his inner thigh. Beset by these tantalizing images, he passed the sunlit hours into the moonlit night.
That night, Reid once more dreamed of Atan. This time, in his dream, Reid’s entire bedroom was a tomb. In the center of the tomb, surrounded by tall blood-red candles, lay Atan on a black satin shroud, naked and expectant, waiting with fangs exposed. Reid fell onto that sensuous sable cloth. At once, Atanasio rolled on top of him engulfing him like a cool consuming wave. As Atan covered Reid with the shroud and his body, the incessant harangue of the alarm clock stirred Reid. Once again, he woke trembling and aroused. Still inflamed, Reid readied for work.
Throughout the afternoon, the look and touch of Atan continued to excite him, playing in and out of his daydreams like a flickering erotic film, making it difficult to concentrate on his job. After work, Reid joined his usual Monday-night league for a few games of bowling. But even the light glinting on the white bowling pins reminded him of the pale flesh of Atan. Leaving the bowling alley, Reid returned to the bar.
The bar, with only a couple of dozen patrons circling like vultures, seemed dismal and deserted. Empty as it was, Reid met no delay buying a beer and finding a seat on the bleachers in the back patio. Sitting in his customary spot, he gulped his beer. Because he’d already had several bottles at the bowling alley, the brew buzzed his brain and blurred his vision. Through bleary eyes, he looked up at the moon. The moon was full. Still squinting at that bright hypnotic orb, Reid didn’t notice Atan approach.
“Hello again.”
Reid flinched, a little startled by the appearance of the sultry bloodsucker.
“Sorry.” He laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No. That’s all right,” Reid spluttered. “How’ve you been?”
“Waiting for you,” enticed Atan with a wildly disarming smile.
Both tense and titillated, Reid gaped mutely into Atan’s enigmatic eyes. In pace with his racing pulse, Reid’s breathing quickened as Atan moved closer.
Leaning into Reid, Atan enfolded him snugly in his solid arms. Held helplessly in Atan’s forceful grip, Reid did not struggle. Nor did he resist when Atan pressed his cool lips over Reid’s warm mouth. Atan kissed Reid long and passionately. Overwhelmed, Reid rested limply against Atan’s athletic chest. Brushing his lips along Reid’s skin, Atan drew his mouth near to Reid’s ear.
“The moon is full tonight,” he whispered seductively. “Will you come home with me?”
Kindled by that torrid combination of danger and desire, Reid could not refuse. “Yes,” he agreed weakly. “Yes.”
Spurred by his acquiescence, Atan pulled Reid firmly to his feet. Intoxicated with alcohol and hunger, Reid let the vampire usher him from the bar and into Reid’s car. Once in the car, the aggressive sanguinarian caressed Reid’s inner thigh while directing him to his house.
The one-story house stood inconspicuously at the end of a dead-end street. With its peach-painted stucco walls, lime Bahama shutters, and roof of cinnamon clay tiles, the secluded dwelling abided almost completely hidden by lush foliage. The branches of two twenty-five foot gumbo limbo trees formed a canopy over the gray slate walkway that led to the front door. The yard on both sides of the path teemed with leather fern, hibiscus, wild coffee, and arrowroot spreading rampant and wild.
Shrubs were beginning to violate the driveway where Reid parked the car by the side of the shadowy property. The murky premises were illuminated only by the warily watchful glare of the full moon. In that gloom, Reid was hardly able to see. To guide him, Atan vigorously grasped Reid’s shoulders and hastened him along the walkway. Passing beneath the arch of bran
ches that sheltered the path, Reid felt a sense of foreboding as though he was entering an ominous netherworld from which he might never return. Ignoring the dread, he allowed himself to be pushed inside the house and hustled through an unlit hallway into the back bedroom.
The bedroom, to Reid’s astonishment, mirrored his dream. Like the chamber in his vision, several crimson candles seductively lighted the room. Their quivering flames created an eerie yet erotic ambience. In that seamy light, Reid observed that the windows had been blocked, transforming the room into a sealed vault. In the center of the tomb-like room, a king-sized mattress lay covered with black satiny sheets.
Easily lifting Reid with powerful arms, Atan dropped him roughly onto the bed. Caught in the surge of Atan’s supernatural passion, Reid sprawled helpless, scarcely able to breathe. Like a relentless satyr, the ardent aggressor swiftly removed all of Reid’s clothing. Lying naked on the luxurious cloth, Reid swelled with anxious anticipation as Atan quickly tore off his own garments. Standing nude, Atan’s sinewy, toned physique glistened in the candlelight.
With shadows from the flickering flames dancing on his bare back, Atan kissed Reid’s foot, then grazed his lips and the tip of his tongue along Reid’s leg and inner thigh. The middle-aged mortal shuddered. As the handsome hedonist continued upward, skimming his mouth across Reid’s abdomen and chest, his buff body glided over Reid like the smooth underbelly of a stingray. Reid convulsed involuntarily when Atan’s mouth fully covered his and the vampire’s firm figure completely covered his compliant flesh.
Panting beneath that strapping frame, Reid let out a low moan when Atan mounted him. The bloodsucker bared his fangs and bit. Reid gasped as the incisors sank deep into the tender tissue of his throat. As Atan swallowed, Reid felt his blood coursing through every artery of his body. His pulse raced beyond the human norm and his eyes glazed. All of his senses seemed to elevate, floating in that delirious realm between the physical reality of fabric and flesh and the spiritual boundaries of Heaven and Hell. It was as if every facet of his being was simultaneously climaxing in its own orgasmic ecstasy.
