Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Already a Winner!
Holiday by Leigh Ellwood
"Once again love," he said, a muscular arm draped about my shoulder, "we find ourselves in a precarious situation. I dare say it's a most inconvenient time for tea, don't you think?"
We were cornered in a dark bedchamber on the second floor of a Victorian mansion, far away from civilization. The faint aroma of patchouli, streaming from the smoke of an extinguished pillar candle, tickled my senses and I clung to Dorian's side. This was our first weekend away together, Dorian's proposed holiday of romance and solitude in a genuine haunted English inn, chosen just for my fascination with the paranormal.
Champange, untouched, bubbled in flutes on the nightstand by the bed, next to a silver dish of strawberries. I had so looked forward to feeding them to Dorian, perhaps placing a small red fruit in my mouth while he retrieved, or maybe planting one between my breasts for him to sample, pink stains on my negligee be damned.
The night had shown us such promise, too. If only we weren't surrounded now by zombies.
I glanced from one night stalker to the other; each of their hollow, mundane expressions inspired more thoughts of disappointment than fear. I was really hungry.
"You didn't pay extra for the ambiance, did you?" I asked Dorian. "If so, I'd have to say you were more than likely ripped off. I feel nothing for this."
Dorian eased himself away from me and flexed his fingers. "Sorry to say, love, this is very much real. I had anticipated at the very least a ghostly visitor in the night. The brochure said nothing about zombies. It might, of course, explain the outrageous discount I was offered for the night. If you'll excuse me," he added with a courtly bow in my direction.
The zombies closed in on us. They smelled of dust and decay and something like rubbing alcohol. Hardly pleasant and romantic. When Dorian executed a high kick to one, the zombie's chest caved in completely, stirring up dust clouds everywhere. I coughed and sneezed, and opened my eyes in time to see my love taking on each monster with practiced force. A swing of the arm beheaded one, a stab with the fire poker fell another. Dorian was a whirling dervish, circling the bed and leaving defeated zombies in his wake, save for one rather stubborn one.
This zombie just didn't know when to surrender. I saw Dorian reach behind him as if to take the champagne bottle, but I screamed.
"Love, no! That's a '87 Moet!"
Dorian glanced at the label. "Sorry, love," he replied and reached instead for the lamp. He cracked the bulb and plunged the socket into the zombie's chest cavity, stunning it into motionlessness.
"Well, now," Dorian rubbed his hands, "that's that." He held out one hand toward me and helped me over the heap of dead zombies to the bed. "Should we ring for the maid to clean up first?"
I glanced around the room. "I don't think they'll bother us," I decided. Their presence did lend a macabre atmosphere that seemed to heighten my arousal. "Shall we just resume?"
"Gladly," Dorian concurred, and bent toward my neck, "though there's something I should share with you before we go any further."
"And that is?"
And that's when Dorian's fangs punctured me. The second my demon lover bit sent pleasured shivers through my blood, which increased as he gently suckled the wound.
So, he was a vampire. Rather rude of him not to say anything on our first date, but I have to admit the way he broke the news, and my skin, was not entirely unpleasant.
He kissed the quickly healing scab. "I hope you're not offended, love," he whispered. "It just never seemed to be the right time, what with our busy schedules."
"No worries, love," I sighed. "I suppose I could live with being a vampire's girl. Though I must say, it sucks to be you."
Dorian chuckled and dipped below my collarbone for another bite. "Actually, I was going to say the same thing."