Undying as I am, I still crave cupcakes. Yes...cupcakes, with sweet white frosting. The taste of sugar and vanilla whipped into such a frenzy, christens my tongue as if I were eating it right now.
It makes my teeth ache. My fangs ache even at the thought.
I don’t indulge in such sweetness anymore. Not unless it rests on the tongues of the damned.
The only other true pleasure I take other than sex and the occasional drug, is books.
Yes books. Indulging me in the mind of a mortal. Perhaps, of the mind I used to be. To see the world through such temporary eyes is a thing of beauty.
I have a favorite book store. It smells of books from when I was a boy. Now they call them...vintage.
Heh. What an overly complicated way to say old.
In this particular bookshop, there is a cupcake behind the desk. Sweet. I know it is, I can taste it on my fangs.
Her name is Eleanor. She keeps these books, here in this shop. Her brown skin kissed by the sun, yes she is loved by it.
Her gentle fingers traipse the pages of the book she’s reading. Slacking on the job. I open the door, a bell declaring my entrance.
Her eyes flit up, covered by such long lashes.
A cupcake. I must not taste her. I lick my lips in hunger.
“Good morning,” she smiles. “Alastair.”
My name from her lips. And I am meant to be cursed.
“Good morning, Eleanor. ” I smile back. When I look at her, I wonder if she’s able to see though me.
See the wretched thoughts I am thinking of her. They are immoral in one sort another. I want drink from her. Her lips. Her neck. The pair of luscious lips between her thighs.
I smile softly. “What will you recommend me today?”
“Are you finished so quickly?” Her hair is such beauty, spirals of joy, her lips soft. Plump.
She doesn’t deserve the dark impulses I address her with.
“I am such a fast reader,” I smile, approaching the counter. I make my steps loud. I rest my fingers on the counter.
“Yes you are. I’ve never seen some consume so much content.”
“Yes...consume. I’m afraid I do that all too well,” I grin, leaning forward. Her eyes dart down to her book.
A shy little thing, this cupcake. Stare at her too long, and her skin turns a nice red color.
“Ah, well what are you in the mood for today, Alastair? Perhaps a good mystery? I’ve been reading a gothic mystery I think you’ll enjoy.”
Dark ringlets settle on her soft shoulders, as she tells me of a story she’s heard.
“How does it begin,” I ask her.
“As all good stories do,” she winks.
“Mh. I find myself debating of things with begin with the an ending. Relationship. Life. Perhaps I’m in such a mood for sadness.”
She cocks her head. “I think you mean angst. You really could benefit from a break. Your wallet must be in a quandary.”
“Never you mind about the state of my wallet, dear. I keep enough to visit you and your shop.”
She grins, turning around climbing the latter of the bookshelf. “Mind the business that pays you, they say,” she throws me a smug grin. “And you do pay me so I should mind the state of your wallet shouldn’t I?”
“You cheeky girl.” She grabs a book, lifting onto her toes to get it.
She hands it to me, from atop her ladder. “This should get you crying. I didn’t speak a word a week after I finished it. Too weak from sobbing.”
Those gorgeous eyes, full of tears? Incomprehensible.
“I see. Such a strong recommendation.”
Her fingers rest on the table, as she rings me up. I reach ever closer to them. Our fingers brush. She chuckles.
“Alright, Alastair. It’s supposed be 20. But for you, my dearest and most loyal patron—you don’t cheat on me with other shops do you?”
She raised her brown eyes, glistening. Ah...they sparkle with such a shine. Exuberance almost.
How I would ravage her of every innocence she has.
“No. I’m faithful to you,” I swear. “In utmost fidelity, my dearest Eleanor.”
She smiles wider. “Alastair, you charmer. You’re trying to get a deeper discount aren’t you? I told you, to go easy.”
I lean in resting my hand on my hand. “I’ve warned you about minding my wallet. I’ll have to give you an official title, if you’re so keen.”
“Title? Accountant perhaps?”
“Hm...something with a higher salary. Wife.”
She takes my joke in stride. I hand her her money. She takes it. Once again, our fingers touch. Should it feel this scandalous?
Her lips...so close I could almost—
“Alastair...your book.” She said softly, her voice a whisper.
Yes whisper. Whisper to me...
“Thank you, Eleanor.”