King's Blood: Vampire Lust (A Serial Novel, Part 3)

by P. J. Day

  “Stupid flash!” I said loudly. Ted didn’t even flinch. He was on my bed in only his boxers and a t-shirt. The silly beret he had on at the cafe was dangling at the end of one of his big hairy toes. He was launching the beret into the air by flicking his ankle, all the while trying to make it land on his head with the showmanship and flavor of a failed French Canadian circus act.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I guess. It stings a little. I keep forgetting to turn off the flash.”

  I stared at the small camera screen, mimicking my face that was on the picture. It was an infantile attempt at a smoldering look, or who knows, maybe it did look nice. Sometimes it’s really difficult to gauge one’s attractiveness. If I consider myself good looking at all times, I risk entering a state of narcissism, with all its hang-ups and psychological pitfalls, and if I went ahead and downplayed how I felt about my physical attributes, I risked losing confidence. I’d always wondered what is was like to be human and have a myriad of mirrors in your home. What was the feeling like…waking up and looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, first thing in the morning? Is that love handle getting larger? I need to weigh myself. I’ve gained five pounds! Time for a morning jog. Is that a zit? I need to pop this sucker before I leave the house. Wait a minute, there is a tear in my pants, my balls are literally hanging out! Thank you, mirror!

  Humans are lucky that they are able to see their reflection constantly. Before cameras, and before I left the house, I always had to give myself a pat down that would have made the TSA envious.

  After examining the picture, I noticed a little wayward strand of hair right above my right ear; I carefully put it back in place. Everything else seemed under control and presentable. I made sure I had just the right amount of stubble as well as making sure I didn’t go overboard on the hair product.

  I turned to Ted and stretched my arms out. I stood there in a submissive stance awaiting his judgment.

  “So, how do I look?”

  “You look marvelous,” he said, in his best Billy Crystal impersonation.

  “What do you think of these cuff links? You think she’ll like them?” I flashed the underside of my wrists at Ted. I had on these monkey cuff links with faux rubies eyes, which I had since the 60’s, after finding them in an old storage unit in the Bronx; the same units I’d rummage through looking for freshly deceased bums that I could feed off of. I know, it sounds abhorrent and vile, but I had to be creative back then, just to survive. I had lost the monkey cuff links for years, but they finally turned up at the bottom of a sock drawer I had neglected for no particular reason, as I packed for the trip.

  “Hey, those are pretty cool,” said Ted, as he got up from the bed, taking a closer look.

  “Yeah, they’re pretty neat little ice breakers, aren’t they?”

  Ted sat back down onto the bed and grabbed the remote control that was laying on top of his clothes on the comforter. “So, where you taking her?”

  I grabbed a business card out of my jacket pocket and handed it to Ted.

  “Petrus? Two Michelin stars...not bad. Why not a place with three, since most likely Schnell is paying, and three is, you know, better than two?”

  “Michelin stars have nothing to do with price, Ted.”

  “I know, don’t be silly. I know everything...test me.”

  I had to bite. Sometimes I didn’t know if Ted was being silly with raw confidence in conversations like these or if he was just being his old playful self. “Before China, Hong Kong was a protectorate of who?”

  “The French, of course. Which is why you are going to this fancy French restaurant. A little history is in order with a little fine dining, right?”

  I paused and stared at him. Was it worth a correction? Of course not.

  “Please don’t leave this room while I’m gone. Also, hands off my computer, okay? Rald mentioned that there might be some snooping going on.”

  Ted flipped on the television and pressed a couple of buttons on the remote. He stopped on a channel showing Yo Gabba Gabba, a colorful, live action variety show aimed at children. “I wonder what this show would be like while being high.”

  “...and no drugs or alcohol,” I said, as I grabbed my wallet and my cell phone.

  “Don’t worry. I’m done with that shit. I no longer suffer from stress. I’m free. Have fun.” Ted then patted one hand on the comforter, as he lay on his side watching the television. “I expect to sleep on this bed alone tonight,” he said, while giving me an exaggerated wink.

  I gave Ted a half smile and shook my head. “I’ll see you later on tonight and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

  Ted saluted me while staring at the television as I exited the hotel room.

  While I was getting ready in my room I had briefly called Holly and told her that I would meet her in the lobby at 8:00 and that reservations were at 8:30. I asked her if she was too tired to go out since she arrived this morning from Los Angeles. In an eager tone, she told me that she wanted to see the city and was looking forward in seeing me as well.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number.

  “Holly?” I asked.

  “Jack! I’m down by the cafe, where are you?”

  “Just got out of the room and entering the elevator.”

  “Do you want me to hail a cab?”

  “No, it’s okay. Just wait for me, I’ll be downstairs in a minute or two. Hang tight.”

  I hung up the phone and waited for the elevator doors to open. A young couple walked up behind me. I turned around and smiled at them. They didn’t acknowledge me as they embraced, giggling, whispering who-knows-what into each others ear. The elevator doors opened and I walked in. The young couple, still in full embrace, stumbled in right after me, both staggering to the back of the elevator. As the doors closed they began stormily making out. I assumed they were headed down to the lobby as well, and I didn’t feel like interrupting their moment, so I pressed the lobby button without asking. I tried not to fixate on their passionate, hormonal grappling that reflected on the elevator doors, but it was extremely difficult looking away since I saw the young man’s hand quickly torpedoing up the young girl’s short skirt. The young man then looked up at me, taking a half second break from slurping on the young girl’s neck; I immediately looked away. Right before diving in for more helpings, he did a quick double take at me. He immediately realized that I did not cast a reflection on the elevator doors. He stood there slack-jawed, as his lover continued to suck on his neck, oblivious to his realization. I grinned and stared at the floor numbers as they counted down. The elevator stopped and I walked out as soon as the doors opened, I looked back and gave the young man a wink and a nod. He grabbed her hand as they both walked out of the elevator shortly after I did. He said something to his girlfriend as they both stood still in embrace, staring at me, like they had seen a ghost for the very first time.

  I noticed her right away. Her features, which adhered to nature’s optimal symmetric perfection, were on full display in the hotel lobby. Every man, no matter the age, fixated on her as they walked by. Some passed by focusing on her face, hoping she’d look up, others would sneak a peek while maintaining conversations with their wives, and girlfriends. She was playing on her phone, probably on purpose, as she knew full well that every straight male in the vicinity was doing their best in trying to make some sort of passive connection with her majestic green eyes.

  I walked right up to her and playfully invaded her personal space by forcing some eye contact. She lifted her head and gave me a wonderfully radiant smile. Her teeth were perfectly set, as white as humanly possible without the unhealthy translucence of enamel loss.

  “Why, hello there, Jack,” she said, as she gave me a tight hug. You know those hugs you get from a girl or guy that you feel may like you a lot; that has that extra little soft oomph that reminds you how much they really, really want you.

  I wrapped my arms around her soft petite frame. She had on the same
perfume she wore on our first date. It was a sharp, flowery smell, like wisteria, but more youthful and electric.

  “You look absolutely stunning,” I said, as funny little feelings made tiny pecks in my lower gut.

  “Stop making me blush, Jack.” She had her hands on my shoulders and mine on her waist. It was a seemingly comfortable position, and one that strangely enough, wasn’t a familiar one considering this was only our second date. “You know how to dress up for a girl, don’t you?” she added.

  “Pffft...I’m not even trying,” I said, playing down my obsessive fashion sense. Sometimes, there are girls who don’t like it when men out-dress them. Not saying Holly is one of them, however, the topic of fashion or clothes hasn’t come up in our conversations. A little humility cant hurt anyone.

  Holly grabbed my scarf with a couple of her fingers and gave it a slight tug, “Holland & Holland?” she asked.

  I gave her a quizzical stare. “Wait a minute...Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sir hipster when it comes to fashion, but how did you know that?”

  “I like nice things, too. I may not be able to afford them like you can, but I do keep tabs on what is fashionably trendy. I consider myself well-rounded, you know,” she said, giving me a playful tap on the cheek.

  I turned toward the exit and gently placed my arm on her back. I pointed at the line of taxis that patiently waited for guests to be taken to their destinations of leisure. “You ready to get going?”

  Holly smiled and said, “I’ve been ready ever since I boarded the plane.”

  I opened the taxi door for her and caught a glimpse of her shoe and her ankle as she pulled her long black, skin-tight dress up ever so slightly so it didn’t get caught at the bottom of the cab’s door. Her right ankle, interestingly enough, had a small tattoo of what looked like a traditional Chinese dragon. I never thought she’d be the type to ink her body. It had me thinking about the potential surprises the rest of her dermal canvas might have in store.

  I entered the cab, smiled at Holly, and patted the cab driver on the shoulder. I gave him a preemptive tip. “We have reservations at Petrus’ at 8:30. Get us there a little faster if you can,” I said.

  “Ooh, look at me. I give pre-tips,” Holly said, playfully.

  “Oh stop it...this place is pretty upscale. They might be kind of snobby and make us lose our seat if we don’t get there on time.”

  “I’m just messing with you. So, how are things going out here for you?” she asked, while patting me on my leg. Her fingers were manicured with great care, a nice deep candy red adorned her long natural fingernails, the skin on her hands glistened with salient moisture.

  “It’s been a giant cluster...” I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to sound like a sailor so early on our date. “...to say the least. I’ll tell you over dinner why we’re all here. But Ted quit on us tonight. In fact, it all happened about an hour before we met downstairs.”

  “What? He just quit? Did he leave to L.A.?” Holly asked, understandably confused.

  “No, he’s in my room. It’s complicated...I’ll tell you at dinner...promise.”

  The cab driver was hauling ass, not recklessly, but with urgency and still managing to somehow respect the traffic laws, or at least blurring them. With confidence and focus, our cab driver took alleyways so he could get us to our destination a little quicker, at the expense of our heart rate, of course. As soon as we hit a much needed stoplight, I decided to ask Holly about her little tattoo. “I didn’t know you liked dragons.”

  “That little thing? I got it when I was in my early twenties. All my girlfriends at the time were getting words written in Chinese without researching what exactly they said.” Holly chuckled a little and continued her story. “One time, my friend Jenny decided it was a good idea to get her lower back tatted. You know, the whole tramp stamp...”

  “Do you have one of those, too?” I asked, with sinister horn-dog curiosity.

  “No, of course not. I mean, do you think I’m that type of girl? Not to say that girls that get it are tramps...well, Jenny was kind of...you know?”

  “Sorry, go on,” I said, feeling kind of like an idiot for asking such a forward question.

  “So Jenny pointed at some Chinese characters on the wall in the parlor and asked the artist if he could ink that particular design on her lower back because she thought it looked cool. The artist, without hesitation, said sure, okay. She asked him what it said as he got the needle ready. The guy told her, while squinting at the design, that it meant ‘rhythmic allure.’ Jenny said, go with it.”

  “So, what did it really say?”

  “Gas chamber...”

  “Are you kidding me? No way, that is too perfect.”

  “I swear to God.”

  We both cackled loudly in the backseat of the cab. The story was too good to be true, and even though I had heard of similar stories regarding Asian tattoos gone awry. This one seemed a little more entertaining, probably due to the way Holly told it. I was smitten with her style of storytelling and the cadence in her voice. She also had an impeccably delightful delivery.

  “Anyway, I decided to get this little dragon one,” Holly said, as she lifted her dress a little, showing me the two-inch long Chinese black dragon with a minute, forked tongue. “I got it because it was different...exotic. It had that cool Asian feel that all my friends were going for at the time, but without committing to cryptic lettering that I might have regretted sooner or later.”

  Holly smoothed down the skirt of her dress and then looked outside the car, tapping excitedly at it, something had caught her eye. She pointed to the glass-paned building, which had a bronzed muscular sculpture of a man holding a large globe on his shoulders. “That’s one of the buildings I need to take pictures of tomorrow. The top has these glass peaks, and they asked for a three-dimensional photographic model of the top of the building.”

  “How are you going to that? I asked.

  “Helicopter, of course.”

  “Hey, we can go back and get your camera after dinner...you want to take a flight after dinner?”

  What girl wouldn’t like a helicopter flight? What could be more romantic than holding someone you really liked in your arms as you saw the skyline all lit up in all its neon splendor? What a genius idea for a date, or so I thought.

  “I don’t really want to work tonight, Jack. I was hoping to let loose a little, is that okay?”

  “No...no, that’s fine. I’m more than happy to let loose. Let’s do this!” I said with much enthusiasm, as I grabbed Holly’s hand.

  “Why are your hands always so cold?” she asked.

  I was caught off guard by the question and quickly let go. I immediately felt self-conscious and that little creeping thought, called the truth, began to overwhelm my psyche. I quickly needed to change the subject. I didn’t want my true nature dictating the temp of our date. It wasn’t the right time to let Holly know who I really was or at least let her know what I thought I was.

  “Bad circulation in the hands. I should have brought gloves. Here, hold my hand again; warm it up if you can,” I said, smiling.

  The cab stopped in front of a beautifully colored skyscraper. It was a spherical structure. Each floor seemed to wrap around the building like glowing pineapple slices, stacked up on each other. Just a few yards away the bay shone with help from the skyscraper’s luminous glow. We got out of the cab and I paid the driver a little over the standard fare, as usual. I then put out my elbow so Holly could latch on comfortably. Without hesitation and with a soft gentle smile, she accepted my offer. We slowly walked up the steps that led to the main entrance of the hotel where Petrus resided. Just like our first date, her heels made that same clacking noise. To the trained ear, it’s easy to determine a woman’s nature by the decibel level she creates with each step. Muffled and deliberate, she was careful in not making too much noise with her heels. She was aware of my heightened sensitivity to her presence and was cognizant of any perceived annoyances. We entered
the hotel lobby and were led to an elevator—that was designated for the restaurant only—by a finely dressed gentleman. The elevator was made out of glass and fully transparent. You could see the entire bay as we ascended to the top floor.

  Holly looked into my eyes. Her emerald-like irises were hypnotic. I noticed cute little freckles on her nose, which further illuminated her youthful appearance. It was impossible to draw my eyes away from her. The way her hair was styled, the way her dress hung around her shoulders, her smell, her look; I felt so compelled to kiss her right then and there. I felt moisture building underneath and around my tongue. The dichotomous feelings that arise in situations like this were starting to overcome my entire being; they emanated from the deepest regions of my physical body. One second, I just wanted to hold her close to my chest, and caress her skin, just before placing my lips on hers, and then in an instant, there was a fulminant drive to sink my fangs deep into her neck, tasting tiny raw pieces of flesh and the exquisite life blood that made her whole entire existence possible. Frankly, it made me feel ashamed to feel this way—so predatory—but there was something in me that I cannot explain that just drove me into these types of situations over and over again, despite a horrible success rate, once the girl found out what my needs were.

  Ding. Just like that, the moment was shattered. The elevator stopped and we walked out. We were immediately greeted by the maître d’.

  “King at 8:30,” I said.

  The man smiled and said, “Your table is ready, right this way.”

  Restaurant Petrus had an ambiance fit for those who were monetarily inclined during the great global recession. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the crown molding looked as if came directly from a baroque-era salon. There were over a dozen windows that had dramatic views of the bay and the city. There was already a bottle of Clos des Papes white wine waiting for us at the table, which I requested upon reservation. As I pulled out Holly’s chair, the waiter was already popping the cork. I pushed in Holly’s chair, and as I sat, the waiter began pouring our wine into the beautiful crystal wine glasses, which complimented the effulgent dinnerware that was soon to be used in our anticipated gastronomical adventure.