SHADOWY CONNECTIONS By: Sean Michael Smith
Saturday, January 17th, 2009The pale girl with ringlets in her Victorian hairdo and dark round sunglasses was staring at Mircea again. Her name was Violet, although she always wore layers of antiquated black clothing from head to toe. She too was a regular at Club Vlad.
Mircea imagined her spending long hours in front of an antique dressing mirror curling her beautiful raven hair and delicately teasing her black eyelashes to spidery perfection. Funny how these children had changed so little over the decades; they just spent larger amounts of their father’s money to imitate the look of death.
Although, Mircea conceded to himself, Violet was more sophisticated than the other pleather-wearing girls in breast-squeezing baby doll shirts he usually met at the club. Violet’s posture was very sophisticated as she delicately sipped her “Bloody Mary.” Her dark elegance was far more intriguing than the look of vapid boredom that drowned Mircea in the sea of chalk white faces around him.
From across the room, she smelled sweet and musky like Jasmine blooms in New Orleans, with just a hint of baby powder underneath.
Mircea grew hard with bloodlust for her.
He wished he hadn’t worried about fitting in with the sheep that night. Micrcea longed to be wearing the more dignified clothing of a man of centuries’ past instead of the constrictively tight black leather pants and tucked-in Evanescence t-shirt.
Violet flashed him a brilliant crimson smile from across the room. She seemed amused by his protruding display of admiration.
Before she could get a second glance, Mircea was already standing beside her. “Well,” Mircea said as he caressed her ear with his breath, “It appears romance and subtlety are not to be my allies tonight.”
“Neither is your unbearably bad Lestat impression. It’s a pretty scrambled metaphor to talk like a master when you’re dressed more like Spike from that horrible television show.”
Mircea laughed, genuinely, for the first time in months. “It seems neither one of us conforms to the expected standards.”
“No,” Violet said as her filed-sharp red fingernails traced the outline Mircea’s hard shaft under his pants. “And, girls who dress like Mina Murray these days are rarely sweet and innocent.”
Mircea nibbled the back of her neck gently and slightly tugged her long black hair with his long, thin fingers.
“There’s an alley out back,” she moaned. “We’ll draw less attention out there.”
Mircea nodded. She grabbed his hand and shoved through the crowd, dragging him to the back door. Once they were outside, Mircea slammed her against the brick wall and ripped off the pearl buttons on her lacey blouse with this teeth. She responded in kind, snapping his silver belt buckle off as she released his pent up frustration right there under the dingy yellow streetlight. Mircea hissed like a rattlesnake as he finished; the dim light glared off his long white fangs.
After he was calm, Violet snuggled up against him and playfully nipped his neck. “Well that was fun,” she said showing off her own fangs. “But, I don’t think it satisfied our REAL hunger.”
Mircea laughed so loud it echoed across the deserted streets. “Well then, I guess we should probably go back inside and grab someone from the buffet.”
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© 2008 Sean Michael Smith
