by Ian Hall
“So what’s your job, Steve?” Valérie leant low.
“The blood. I had to get the blood ready!”
“Fine,” she said, sitting back on her haunches almost daintily. Then she placed a sliver of the wood at his chest, and drove it home with the heel of her hand.
He gasped in pain, confusion, and shock.
Valérie looked over at me. “I’d stand up right now, if I were you.”
“Oh, fuck!” I said, instant panic jumped me away from his dick and pulled his dying fingers from inside me. I stood for a moment, shock filling my entire being, as I thought of what would have happened if I’d sat there as he’d crumbled.
Then of course, he did crumble, right in front of me.
I’d never seen a vampire with an erection submit to the Forrester Effect, but I must admit it looked very strange. It seemed to stand one second too long, then collapsed like an imploding building, dropping into the dust of his bony, crumbling groin.
Ooh. Icky!
Getting Down and Dirty
Holy Crap!
I mean, Mandy’s hand gripped the guy’s dick, and stroked it.
I know Steve wasn’t going to make it past the sunset, but for one moment, I wanted to be him so bad. I looked over at Mandy, but she kept her attention elsewhere. Her eyes were kinda glassy, too, as if she was trying either to get into the mood, or out of it. I wasn’t certain which.
But the deal is… Mandy’s hand gripped this guy, and as soon as she began to move, jacking him, he talked. Talked like never before, but then again, I would have said anything under the same circumstances. I would have sung like a canary to keep that hand pumping.
But the course of the interrogation suddenly got real strange.
The answers came out of left field.
Election?
Senator Wilson?
We had gone from dragging the intestines out of a man’s chest to Senator Wilson. The man had died about three months ago, but of course, I’d been so wrapped up in all my vampire/Helsing crap, I’d hardly paid any attention to the world around me.
But then, it seemed that even Steve run out of information to peddle in order to continue the Mandy wrist action. Poor guy.
Blammo. Wooden Aşchie in the heart. Mandy got up rather suddenly. Boy, I’d hate to have seen her face if she’d kept ahold of his dick.
By the time the Forrester Effect had done with him, there wasn’t much bone left, but what there was, I soon stomped into smaller pieces.
Valérie got some barbeque lighter fluid from her car, and we set fire to his clothes. A small, yellow bonfire at sunset, to mark the last day on earth of Steven Barber.
“Okay, guys,” Valérie began, closing and tying her Căluşari roll. “We’ve got a lead. Let’s get back to the hotel; we’ve got work to do.”
Mandy held her hand up. “I’m kind of bummed on the whole thing. I’ll take a rain check until tomorrow. I want a shower, and watch some mindless television.”
Valérie nodded, and I made a motion to say ‘I’ll go with her’, and guided Mandy towards the passenger’s side.
The ride home proved a silent one. I asked if she wanted the radio on, but she just shook her head and looked out of the window at the desert and the hills.
Considering I felt both excited and disorientated about what had happened, I had no idea how Mandy felt, and from her distance in the car, I’m pretty sure she didn’t want to talk about it.
So I thought of the investigation side of the coin.
Senator Colin Abraham Wilson served in Arizona for quite some time, if I remember. He’d died in a car wreck about three months back, somewhere back east, doing campaigning for someone out there. I couldn’t remember anything dubious about his death, but if the vampires had a candidate running in his place, that’d be a seat on the country’s senate. It would be a pretty powerful place for a vampire.
Not that the candidate actually had to be a vampire, of course. They could just be under vampire control.
And of course, with us being just in Phoenix, after a few weeks in San Diego, then all the stuff in Harris with the rage gas, it was no wonder that we’d missed anything about the election.
We reached the hotel with little else spoken.
Mandy spent over an hour in the shower, then with a big white towel from her tits down, sat combing her hair in front of the mirror for a while.
“Go take a shower, Lyman,” she said, looking at me in the mirror.
“I’m fine,” I said, flicking through the channels on the television, trying to get anything at all on the election, but coming up very blank.
“Go take a shower, boy,” she said shaking her head. “After tonight, you stink.”
I shook my head at her apparent moodiness, but when I thought she wasn’t looking, I did a quick smell-under-the-pits thing, and well, maybe I did seem a little ‘off.’
But determined to keep my macho image up for a little longer, tried to flick channels to annoy her.
It didn’t work. Mandy just settled on the other bed, her big white towel still wrapped round her.
I eventually got up and took a shower. But of course when it came to washing my bits, I just happened to think of Mandy jacking Steve off. That did it. My little boy stood to attention and wouldn’t go away, even when I shifted the water to icy cold.
I tied my towel around my waist, and it tented. I sat on the toilet for a while, but it didn’t help much. I still saw Mandy’s hand around it.
Heck, I still wanted Mandy’s hand round it.
Argh!
Eventually I just said ‘fuck it’ and walked out, hoping to get under the covers before she spotted me. No chance. Her eyebrows shot into her forehead.
“What’s up, Lyma-bean? Been thinking about me?”
“Shut up, Mandy.”
But it did no good. She put Tomas’s journal on the bed and slinked over. Her towel had loosened a bit and the top of her tits were in view as she climbed on my bed.
“Mandy!” I said, shuffling to the other edge.
But her hand had reached under the sheets, searching. I thought she planned to tickle, that annoyed me. But then her fingers touched my bare leg, and slowly inched upwards.
“Cat got your tongue?” she continued to tease.
Oh my. The sheets were thin, and from above I could see her advance on my ‘bulge’. She pushed the towel upwards. She kissed my shoulder, and that woke me up. She never kisses me; that’s never happened before.
Then my neck. I lay as confused as I’d ever been, I mean, Mandy never…
Then she kissed me, full on. Lips mashed against mine, tongue flashing inside my mouth.
Then she grabbed my hard-on.
Oh crap.
I was filled with two emotions, and I knew they’d never mix well. One had to surface more than the other.
Utter icky-ness and lust.
Lyman drove back to town, and the undercurrent began to grow. The whole interrogation thing had gotten dirty and nasty.
But we did get the information we needed.
I lost myself in the sunset, and it felt good to be kinda looked after by Lyman. I sneaked a few glances at him. He didn’t look like Alan or Jackson, they had been real good looking young men. But Lyman was different. He’d stuck by me, through thick and thin; it felt good to be around him, even though he seemed a bit dim sometimes.
I took a shower back at the hotel, and washed myself far more thoroughly than I’d done in a while. Plenty scrubbing in the nether regions, lots of aromatics to kill the vampire musk.
And at various times, I remembered Steve’s probing fingers, and of course, that invited my own. But it never seemed enough, and I craved a harder, more physical release.
I toweled myself off, and set off into the main room. It had been so long since I’d done anything with my hair. In fact my last attack had been in Harris, cutting it short, and getting black and red dyes involved. Now my blonde roots were showing, and the color had faded, it actually lo
oked kinda cool.
I brushed it for a bit.
Then I smelled something musty. Vampire musk.
I turned, and there on the bed, lay Lyman, remote in one hand, scratching his groin with the other.
Vampire Musk. Her Musk. Miss vampire Latin America.
“Go take a shower, Lyman.” I looked at him through the mirror.
“I’m fine,”
But I wasn’t going to smell ‘her’ all night.
“Go take a shower, boy. After tonight, you stink.”
And after a while he toddled away to the bathroom.
I switched the television off, and settled on my bed with Tomas’s journal.
I’d read for a few minutes when I realized my hand had found its way under my towel, and my fingers were, you know, playing.
I stopped immediately, and concentrated on Tomas’s words. But of course, that didn’t help; in fact, it focused me on my problem.
I didn’t want a penis. I wanted Lyman.
Before long, I put the journal down, then amazingly, the ginger hunk appeared around the corner, making a beeline for his bed. The towel around his waist did nothing to hide his erection.
I laughed, happy for some fun, uncomplicated thoughts.
“What’s up, Lyma-bean? Been thinking about me?”
Well, he reddened like never before. It looked cute.
“Shut up, Mandy.”
Ready for some more ribbing at his expense, I slipped off the bed, totally aware of the fact that my towel had come loose while I was fingering myself.
I got onto his bed, side first, and he cringed away like I had lice or something. It felt like time to do some tickling.
“Mandy!” he blurted in protest, moving as far as the tucked-in sheets would let him.
I slipped my hand under the sheet. My ‘best’ hand, I thought. Then asked myself why I’d thought it. Steve hadn’t gotten my best hand. And now it seemed to be reaching for Lyman.
I touched his leg, all hairy and cloyingly wet from the shower. He froze.
Clean. Lyman.
I still intended to tickle, but somehow my hand began the long, lingering journey to Lyman’s crotch, and the bulge so visible from above the sheets.
Then I encountered towel. And I knew that the time had come to decide which route I should take: above or below. I looked at Lyman, but his expression seemed to be half fear, half expectation.
“Cat got your tongue?” I teased again.
I wanted to tickle him, force him onto the floor and have him laughing like we had up near the Grand Canyon. Man, that seemed sooo long ago.
But, of course I looked down at the movements under the sheets, and I felt my hand sliding up his hairy leg.
For some reason I wanted his neck. I focused on it. I wanted to suck on that artery, but I knew I never could. His Helsing blood would kill me. But, oh man I wanted to so bad.
I planted a gentle kiss on his shoulder, the same shoulder that I’d cried on so many times. Then I kissed his neck, directly above the same artery that Jackson had opened to save Lyman’s life.
Seems like every fiber of my being lay with this foreign boy, not even of my species anymore. Then I remembered how he’d rescued me from certain death by the Helsings. It hadn’t been his fault, although I’d blamed him often enough.
He deserved a kiss of ‘thank you’ for his efforts that day, but I never had.
Oh boy, he’d used mouthwash.
I tasted it before I realized I’d even started kissing him, my tongue licking his teeth as he lay lifeless below me, probably too scared to move.
Then my advancing hand found the source of its search, and I grabbed it firmly.
Just like I’d grabbed Steve. But Steve hadn’t had my ‘good’ hand.
Oh boy, and Lyma-bean’s dick proved bigger, thicker. Oh boy.
I lunched on his mouth for ages, then carefully stroked my teeth on his neck and pushed the sheets down the bed like a tsunami, and lunged for his dick with my mouth.
Oh boy did I give him some fun. I dallied with the tip for a while, then went for broke. Only after many strokes did I notice he’d pulled me across the bed, and now Lyman’s tongue lay squarely between my legs, lapping against me, probing, cutting through my flesh where my own fingers had just been. I don’t know if he’d taken lessons, or if he’d watched far too much porn, but it sure felt like his tongue knew what to do.
Delicious.
His hands ripped the towel from me, then dived between us for my breasts, which he seemed to find quite easily. He pulled roughly on my nipples, seemingly finding my mood quite easily.
We were on fire.
Despite everything I knew could happen, I knew I had to have him inside me. No other option would cut it.
I spun around, and virtually impaled myself in one clean stroke.
And oh boy, did we both like that.
Then we began to laugh, tears falling down our cheeks as we took each other again and again.
And then in the morning, before school, we did it standing in the shower together.
I humped him against the tiled shower wall like there’d be no tomorrow, and when we walked to the parking lot for the car, it seemed the sun shone that bit brighter.
My dick hurt.
I’d had a night, and early morning, screwing a vampire, and my dick actually felt as tender as it ever had. Painful rubbing in my jeans when I twisted in the car seat, painful when I rose to leave.
A truly magical feeling.
In class, I sat next to Elena, feeing slightly guilty, but only slightly.
Mandy had been truly magnificent. Wonderful lover, and both tender and passionate almost at the same time. And her tits. Oh, man, to feel them under my chest, in my hands, feel those hard nipples in my mouth.
Wonderful.
Then Elena leant over me and took a good smell at my crotch. She gave me a long, hard stare, but little else passed between us that morning.
Houze had us writing notes on a spoken lecture because we were getting a visitor at eleven.
“Beep.”
A text message, from Finch. I turned the volume down under the watchful eyes of Mister Houze.
Got info about election. You’ll know more later. BIG news.
But I got on with the work at hand. Notes, lots of notes. Blood types, Proteins, Carbohydrates, Glycolipids, Glycoproteins, it never stopped.
And texts.
Try to get assigned with one of us, there’s quick speed work to be done.
I began to get excited. It finally looked like we’d be actually doing something.
Try to get details.
As eleven closed, Houze drove us faster, and thankfully my note-taking could stand the pace. Elena, however had given up, her pen poised above her page.
I gave her a grin, but she turned away. Ah well.
Lyman! We missed our chance. You record the whole thing on phone!
Eleven got announced by a knock on the door, and three women walked into the class. All pretty, all middle-aged, all well dressed and hair done up and coiffured.
Houze didn’t even acknowledge their presence; he just stopped talking and walked out. I calmly hit video record on my phone, and put the handset next to the pile of textbooks on the desk. Since I sat nearest the window, only the couple of seats in front of me could have seen what I intended. And their attention got instantly drawn to the front of the class. I placed a notebook on top, just for added camouflage.
“Good morning, C1,” The one in green began. “My name is Georgina Fulkes, and my companions are Daisy Redmond (in red) and Geri Conrad (in blue). We are all department heads in the main political office of Ronaldo Cusack, hopefully our next state senator.”
Well this lady had political red, white, and blue truly stuck up her ass. She went on for ages about the sanctity of the political process, and the spotlessness of this Ronaldo Cusack. Her friends handed out brochures at the pertinent points, and we gradually gathered pamphlets, stickers, and pins.
Turns out that at eleven twenty-five, the lady in blue pulled on her arm, and they all made a rapid exit.
No sooner than we’d started to chat amongst ourselves, the Dean walked in. Angela McCartney in the flesh.
“C1!” Whatever chat had risen, died immediately.
“The election is Tuesday, next week. You, C1, will work the South West district. You will be responsible for sixty of the ballot boxes on the day. You will work the following shifts: six ‘til ten, ten ‘til two, and two ‘til seven. You have three days to familiarize yourselves with maps, shift times, and your respective ballot areas.”
She pointed to the new guy just walking into the class. “This is Pedro Rodriguez, he will explain the maps, the tactics, and the method you will use.”
And she walked out.
But of course, I never thought a thing about it, because the excitement built in waves.
Pedro started hitting us before Angela’s backside had left the room. “There are seventy-six ballot boxes in the Coldwater Springs area of Phoenix. You will each be given maps and addresses. The major work has all been done for you. And by now, most of you will be wondering ‘what the heck is going on?’, huh?”
I nodded.
“It is with certain pride that I tell you that you’ve been chosen to change the course of human history.” His calm, deliberate expression certainly gave his words some considerable gravity. “On Tuesday there is, in Arizona, a small matter of an election. Small potatoes for the world, indeed, just a political resettling for the United States. But for the vampire world, it’s the first time we’ve actually actively campaigned at this level before. We plan that within a week, we’ll have a vampire-elected member of the U.S. senate, and in less than ten years, a vampire-elected president.”
The import of his words couldn’t do anything else but hit me hard. With a goal far greater than anything Amos had tried, this had to be told to the Helsing command immediately. I glanced at my phone, still in place, hopefully still filming Pedro.
