Ah how I love The Black House, fun and debauchery abound. Every Friday I come and my dastardly actions always go unheeded until I’m well gone. I have my own little nook where I secrete myself with a book until some interesting or exotic bird of the female persuasion catches my eye. I never actually read the book but I find if you frequent any bar book in hand you are left in relative peace except for a few snorts of derision now and again.
I’m going to stock pile a few whiskies, so I can survey my prey without showing my hand too early. The bar man is used to my appearance so doesn’t flinch at my pale skin any more. He doesn’t even attempt the petty small talk just takes my money and nods. We have a little arrangement where if I see something I like I let him know and he in turn lets me know what the object of my desire’s chosen tipple is. I often wonder if he knows but he never lets on.
If I just wanted sex it would be so much easier, as that’s what a lot of people come here for, but I have a taste for blood, pumping, flowing, blood. The exhibitionist in me needs the little scare that this may be it I just might be caught, ah the extra thrill of fellow drinkers breezing by as I indulge my taste-buds. I have been known to get too excited and have to retire to my little nook to remove skin from my fangs and replace their covering veneers. No, before you ask I am not a vampire, I paid a fortune in dentistry to get my fangs, just so. I won’t die if I don’t get my fill just fester in boredom and misery.
Ah, now she looks interesting, nice and petite, I thought the big-boned girls would have a meatier taste at one time, but I was wrong, all that fat and extra flavours just gets in the way of that glorious blood. I tend not to waste my time so catch the bar mans eye so he’s aware of that she’s drinking. Ah how ironic it’s a Bloody Mary, love it. I gesture for him to pour me a double Bloody Mary and it’s sent over. I pop in my little pill and am ready to go. It just makes them a little drowsy, I’m not doing any harm, but they never have the will or energy after partaking to stop my suckling. They’ll explain away their cut in the morning thinking the sex got a wee bit energetic and will be too ashamed to mention to anyone a one-night stand.
She accepts my offering with elegance and we retire to my little nook. The lump she takes out of my neck is sure to leave a scar and those fangs are real. The bar man acknowledges my terrified yelp and pops a little pill in my whisky apparently I suckled his niece on his night off. Revenge is always on the menu in The Black House.