Undesireable: Chapter 3
TITLE: Undesireable (An original vampire novel)
RATING: NC-17 (This chapter PG-13)
GENRE: Porn with plot -- heavy on the plot. Action/adventure, some black humor, some romance.
PAIRINGS: George x everyone. Mostly Slash, some het, three and moresomes. Vampire sex.
WARNINGS: Lots of non-con and coercive themes -- oh howdy Lots of swearing. Some sexual props. Some bondage. Heavy dominance/submission themes.
WORD COUNT: 3792
CHAPTER THREE
I think my goth-gaurds started to feel a bit sorry for me on the long walk down to the parking structure. I was thinking deeply about just how much this random Vampire was going to completely dismantle my life, which they seemed to interpret as me being scared shittless. They weren't entirely sure if I was intimidated by them or the situation, so they tried to reassure me on both fronts.
"You know, I had to stop you back there," said Jim, the ever so fractionally smaller of the two. "Trust me, if I hadn't, you'd have gotten a lot worse than a twisted arm out of it. But it wasn't personal."
"Er… thanks," I managed. "I guess." I rubbed my shoulder reflexively.
Ted tried as well. "So… You aren't a born again, are you?"
The question took me aback for a moment, because it seemed to come out of nowhere. "No," I said before I realized that I might have been able to use that as an excuse to beg off. Most vampires find Evangelicals and their "get away thee spawn of Satan" attitude annoying as fuck and just don't want to deal with them. Of course, those who aren't deterred generally make life very, very bad for those who try that tactic. It's not a healthy religious choice.
On second thought, I probably couldn't have used the excuse. Lord Jeffrey was looking to punish himself, being some shrill bible thumping heteronorm would probably have just made me all the more appealing. What was up with my luck? Did I piss off God somehow?
"Hmm," said Jim. "I don't know what they tell you about this back in your part of the world, but it really isn't that bad, man. I've done this lots of times. You just have to relax and give yourself permission to enjoy it." He coughed a bit and scratched the side of his face sheepishly. "Not that I'm saying you should expect anything. He might just bite you and send you on if you really are disgusting as it says in your file. What I mean is, just go with the flow, and try not to take it too seriously."
"Yeah, I'll try to do that." I wished he'd stop talking to me.
"Don't sweat it so much, dude. Don't want to be sending you into therapy or something."
We reached the car during this pep-talk. I wasn't surprised to see it was a late model silver Cadillac Escalade. After all nothing says vampire like a sports-utility vehicle too pretty to actually use for sport or utility. I took one of the middle row captain's chairs and was happy when my escort took the front seats, effectively turning their backs on me for the first time since I met them.
Apparently out of sight meant out of mind for these guys, because we weren't even out of the parking structure before my presence was pretty much completely ignored in favor of the two talking incessantly (and I do mean incessantly, especially Jim, the guy barely paused for breath) about their recent clubbing experiences. My assessment that the two were basically brainless himbos was confirmed, and even though they had the thinnest veneer of fashionable bisexual cred, it became abundantly clear they were both ridiculously straight, and measured their self-worth by the number of vaginas they'd pronged. Anyway, the two of them TMIed me all the way down the Kennedy Expressway.
Quietly, I slid my computer out of the case and opened it up, and in seconds had it loading up a copy of Vestalar's Bible. Bible is a pretty heavy term for it, but skimpy as it is, it's still pretty much the handiest thing I've ever seen when it concerns Vampires. Pamphlet would be a better word. It's actually a pretty small thing, less than 100 kb of plain text, all but 4 paragraphs of which is one giant three column list. I'm sure the biters have been trying to squash this thing since Vestular crawled out of whatever cave he lives in and uploaded it to the internet, but like goatse, it's everywhere. Every time a site containing it goes down, it's just uploaded somewhere else, within minutes, and I'm sure millions of guys like me have a copy of it just sitting on their computer somewhere, just because it's such a freaking important thing.
I'll admit, I've always liked Vestular. He reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. Rude and black humored. My theory has always been that he's a Undesireable like me, traveling from city to city, compiling notes on the vampires on all the places he's been to. I admit being enough of a fanboy to occasionally fantasize that I'm sharing an airport with him. One day, I'd love to sit next to him on a flight and just talk.
Today, for the first time, I found myself disappointed in him. I scrolled down the list until I got to Chicago and there was Lord Jeffrey Bruins. Social, eccentric, unpredictable, overall not too bad.
That's it. That's all there is about the guy. Overall not too bad - compared to what?. I closed the lid on my computer and gave in to despair.
Other than the distracting front seat conversation, the ride through town was wholly unremarkable, and that turned out to be a terrible thing, because among the many things that didn't happen was me coming up with a coherent plan for getting out of my situation. When we finally pulled off into the narrow, tunnel-like underground parking structure of the Garvy Tower, I'd actually given up.
Hey, it's just blood and some touchy feely. And even if I'm not actually puke flavored the worst that would happen is that everything would come out. That would honestly be a bit of relief. I'd get reclassified. I can always get another job, one that doesn't require so much traveling. And hell, maybe it would be nice to settle down a bit. Get a pet. I already know I don't have any of the truly good tasting number combos, so this service would be it for me.
You know, maybe Lord Fancy Trousers won't care. I mean, while my misclassification might mean a lot to me, it might mean less than dick to him. After all I'm just one of about 10,000 people he has exclusive rights to. Well, exclusive when I'm not abroad. When I'm abroad, I'm free pickings for anyone, hence my current situation. This is why Wally has such a hard time getting a travel permit, even though his Patron rarely calls him up. But if I taste mediocre, why even bother changing my classification? No one's going to want me anyway.
Yeah. All I have to do is just be cool and not dig myself in deeper and I could just sail through this with nothing more than an annoying $100 rescheduling fee on my airline tickets, which I can expense. I've lived through worse travel delays for shittier reasons. Plus, everything I know about vampires comes from the internet, which we all know is full of crap. This could be nothing. Nothing at all.
There's a word for this kind of thinking. It's called "denial."
"Feeling better," Jim asked as he watched me climb out of the car.
"I guess. I suppose you've been through this a thousand times."
"Eh, not that many."
"Any tips? I mean, I don't want to piss him off. Sometimes I can get on people's nerves, when I, you know, don't live up to their expectations. Is there anything he finds… uh… pleasing?"
Ted considered. "Just be quiet and do what your told."
"Gotcha. I'll blend with the furniture."
"That's the ticket," confirmed Jim.
In the elevator, I checked my cell phone, thinking vaguely about warning Wally I'd be late. There was no reception. In the middle of Chicago?
Jim noticed the phone and said, "Signal's jammed. Lord Jeffrey doesn't allow outside communication devices in his sanctuary. Security reasons." He nodded to my laptop. "You won't get the internet either. If there's anyone you need to call, I can do it for you on the land line."
I thought about Wally getting a phone call from some anonymous vampire's help and decided against it. Too spooky. There was no urgent reason to call anyway. No one was waiting at the airport for me -- I travel too much to sponge rides. I come and go without much fanfare.
"Nah, I'll give a call when I leave."
I honestly don't know how much of the twelve story lake front medium-rise belonged to Jeffrey, but apparently it was at least three floors. Compared to this, Lady Dingalings million dollar hillside mansion was cheap and tiny. I passed through two lobbies, then got ushered up some steps and finally walked into a clinic room. This time the nurse who examined me didn't seem to find anything worrisome. After about thirty seconds of half-hearted prodding, he kicked me out of the room with a clean bill of health. I was immediately shown to the lounge where I ended up spending half the night.
The lounge rocked. It was a huge room, with only five of us rattling around in it. It had stunning views of the lake, a huge screen TV off to one end softly playing some romantic comedy, and at the other end of the room was a buffet of outstanding food. Oh my God, the food. My stomach perked up with great interest. After I'd resigning myself to whatever rubbery crap the airline called dinner, this was an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. There were these tiny sandwiches with their crusts cut off and really delicious stuff inside - as far above tuna fish as tuna is above cat food. And there were crackers and a complicated nut and vegetable paste. Ten different types of cheese of various degrees of stinkiness, and olives, oysters, pasta salad made out of genuine angels, and stuffed mushrooms worth going to hell for. The only thing missing was booze. The spread cried out for nice crisp white wine, but the closest thing offered was Martinelli's very non-alcoholic fizzy apple cider. Er… no thanks.
I took a caffeine free Pepsi, and plate full of bite sized bliss, and settled myself on a couch away from the TV. "Man, I could go for a beer," I said.
"I hear ya. I'm jonesing for a cigarette myself," said a slightly horse woman standing at the buffet table. "I guess vamps like their meals drug free or something." I looked up and appraised her.
There is just no kind term for it: she was somewhere between ugly and hideous. Her face was squat and lopsided, with one eye noticeably lower than the other, and her neck was too thin for the size of her head. Her body seemed oddly lumpy. But she'd obviously put a fair amount of work into her appearance. Her hair was actually quite beautiful, glossy and attractively cut. I recognized her clothes as being fashionable and reasonably flattering to her figure.
"I guess so," I replied. "I've never done this before."
She laughed. "Me neither. I'm Undesirable. I kind of figured as compensation for my face I wouldn't have to submit to this indignity."
"Me, too. I'm not only Undesirable, I'm not even from around here."
"Are you really?" she said doubtfully.
I took that as a challenge to my "not around here" statement, and we soon were off on a topic of travel. Turns out she wandered for a living as well, supervising Red Cross projects around the world. That lead into a game of one-upmanship on the subject of exotic food which I quite soundly lost, being that, the current spread notwithstanding, I'm something of a culinary wuss. And you know what? After a couple of hours she stopped looking so awful. Not that I wanted to do her or anything, but I got used to her face and actually found it kind of fascinating. It belonged to her so uniquely. I think I'd have liked to have been her friend, but I never saw her again after that night.
Somewhere in the conversation the other guys joined us, and right off I noticed a trend. They all had something about them that went far beyond ordinary homely. One guy's jaw was just too long. Another guy's eyes were way too far apart. The third guy was all angles. They all stood out in such an unattractive way that I realized why Jim and Ted weren't so sure when they picked me up.
I looked at myself in the darkly glazed mirror and saw a complete poseur. Aside from being short, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my looks that a better hair cut and a touch of Clearacil couldn't correct. I'm not conceited enough to call myself handsome, but I'm definitely on the good-looking side of average. Anyway, my bowl cut and acne wasn't fooling anyone. I wasn't in the same class.
Our party lasted until about 10:30, and then one by one it was broken up. They came for big chin guy first. He gave us a salute and a "See ya around" and walked out the door.
We never saw him again. No, no, I don't think anything awful happened to him. After Lord Jeffrey was done with him, I'm sure he was escorted out of the building and on his way, just as Ted and Jim promised. Still, it was a bit spooky.
They took wide-eye guy next, then Red Cross lady, and finally skinny dude. At 11:15 I was the only one left in the lounge, the movie was long over and those little sandwiches weren't looking that tasty anymore.
They came for me ten minutes later, and my gut flip-flopped between relief that the wait was over and horror that the wait was over. At this point I knew I wasn't Undesirable. I just hoped that Lord Jeffrey wouldn't mind being pleasantly surprised.
Aside from being freaking huge, Lord Jeffrey's home must have been designed to hold off armies or maybe laid out by a paranoid person, because it was a maze. The narrow hallways went off at odd angles to the rooms, and there were security doors every ten feet. It would have been physically impossible to retrace my footsteps. Everywhere I went there were people eyeing me like some kind of unwelcome intruder. It was only by following my guide's fashionable high-heeled boots that I managed to get back to the elevator I'd first come up in - except no. I suddenly realized the interior was different - faux wood paneled instead of chrome and God I had no idea where I was.
"Did they give you a map when you first came on?" I asked.
My guide tittered. She was awfully cute: smaller than me, which is always a plus, in an itty bitty skirt and a jacket that hugged her tight about her waist then poofed out a bit over her small bosom. The leather creaked a little when she walked. I found it easier to think about the little pert sway in her hips than to contemplate what was coming.
I kept up a chatter which in my mind was charming but probably was lame. She kept up little flirty smiles that we both pretended was genuine interest. And all was okay for a few minutes until the reality of the situation came crashing back on me.
"This is where you take off you clothes," she said abruptly. I looked around and saw we'd somehow wandered into a giant closet. There were hangers, some of them filled, and cubbies for shoes and clothes. "Down to your underwear."
Yeah, I was kind of hoping the stripping part wasn't going to happen again. "In front of you?"
"I've seen much worse," she said with just a hint of are you shitting me? tucked into the corners of her smile. She was right, of course, the question was retarded. Expecting a vampire to respect my modesty is absolutely absurd. One doesn't care much about the chicken's sensibilities when one plucks it. "Hurry up," she continued, when apparently I didn't leap to doffing my clothes quite fast enough. "They'll want you any moment."
They. I swallowed. Suddenly I saw in my mind that giant canopy bed. That handcuff.
Okay, I know I've danced about the subject, but I really can't anymore. I honestly don't know why I feel so prudish about it. It's not exactly a secret. Even though the first thing the vamps did after taking over was to clamp way down on any information about them and their practices, some things are just out there. We all know what they do with their food.
They fuck it. Or they have someone else fuck it. Or both. The polite euphemism for it is "sweetening". Internet speculation runs that the hormones we humans dump into our blood when sexually aroused adds a pleasant drug like tingle to the taste, but this could be complete crap. Vampires don't tell us mortals dick about why they do stuff.
Anyway, to be called up to Service nearly invariably means being invited to an orgy, one you can't decline and have the dubious reassurance of knowing you'll enjoy. There is a reason why Wally absolutely refuses to discuss what goes on when he's called up - it's deeply fucking humiliating to anyone who puts any kind a premium on their sex life. It's fucking State sanctioned rape.
There, I said it.
I undressed with the fussiness of a blushing virgin, which I halfway was. I mean, I've had a couple of relationships in the past that have gone all the way, but they've all been with girls. And one thing I do know about Lord Jeffrey, he isn't a girl. And, yes, I do wave my bisexual flag just like everyone else, because it's what you gotta do these days to keep from being labeled a bigot. But like most guys I'm a bit of a liar. I mean, sure, there are some guys I'd do, under the right circumstances (and Wally has a lock on his door to keep me out when those situations arise). But 90 percent of the time given the option of a hot chick or a hot guy, my eyes tend to go chickward. I can't help it.
But even with girls there had never been more than one at a time. Maybe I lose a bit of my guy cred admitting this, but I'm really not big on club sex. Even with condoms all around there's just something skeevy and distasteful about shoving your cock into an anonymous hole, blowing your load and then walking off never to see the person again. Yuck.
And on that thought, I stopped feeling scared and I just felt mad. Mad at Lord Jeffrey for making me miss my plane. Mad that I had to share my body with people I don't give a fuck about. Mad that everyone just takes this whole ridiculous situation for granted. It's been twenty-five years since the Vampires took over. Why hasn't anyone tried to fight them off? When did we as species get so jaded that we figured that brown nosing these bastards was the better idea?
I put my laptop into a cubby on top of my folded trousers and turned to examine my pinstriped boxers in yet another bank of mirrors. Goddamn it but vampires were a narcissistic bunch. Was there anywhere you could turn your head and not have your looks being thrown back in your face? At least mine were pretty normal, if not quite up to the standard around here, but I can't help but think that Red Cross Lady and the others weren't too thrilled about it.
"How long will this take?" I grumbled. Please make it short.
"Maybe five minutes?" said my escort.
But not that short, Jesus! "Five? That's pretty -- quick." I winced. Can't I expect a little foreplay at least? Get into the mood?
"Well it's not like they are going to really feed on you," said the woman. "And you won't be a part of the sex."
My jaw dropped. "They aren't? I won't?" Okay, I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I was just a wee bit disappointed -- momentarily -- by this. Mostly because I'd been girding myself up for a molestation all evening and now it seems that I really didn't have anything to fear after all.
Mostly I felt relief. Huge heaving breaths of relief. The kind of relief that makes you wanna run through downtown hi-fiving strangers.
"Nah, they have Tina and Ron in there for the real meal, you are just there for fun."
So I was being invited to spy for 5 minutes on someone else's orgy. Joy.
"Go in and sit down on the teal couch, don't move unless they tell you to. Don't talk unless they ask you a question, and leave when they say you are dismissed."
"Seems hardly worth me showing up for." 6 hours of my life wasted…
She ignored that and went on: "Oh, and I know this isn't much comfort, but they are going to tease you about your appearance…" she hesitated. "Though, you know, for an Undesirable…" She looked me up and down speculatively. "Anyway, try not to take it too seriously, they're just trying to make you sour."
"I'm plenty sour. Will he actually bite me?"
"Yes. Then declare how disgusting you are and dismiss you."
"Lovely. Delightful people. What then?"
"Come back here, and put on your clothes, I'll have a driver take you home."
I really wanted to be home then, too bad that was 1000 miles away.
I pressed my lips together and straightened up. "Okay, it's not as bad as I was expecting." Considering my first worry was that I was going to be tortured, and my second that I'd be raped -- a few mean words -- pfft. Though it did absolutely confirm my notion that all vampires are at their hearts assholes. In a way this was rather anticlimactic, pun intentional.
There was a little tinkling bell sound. "That's your signal." She opened up a second door in the back of the closet and gestured for me to go.
I walked into the Lord Jeffries presence actually confident that I had nothing to worry about. Ha, ha, yeah, well, I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong. Not that it mattered. I lost my chance to escape fate back at the airport. All I was doing here was cruising into hell on neutral.
Back to Chapter Two
On to Chapter Four
RATING: NC-17 (This chapter PG-13)
GENRE: Porn with plot -- heavy on the plot. Action/adventure, some black humor, some romance.
PAIRINGS: George x everyone. Mostly Slash, some het, three and moresomes. Vampire sex.
WARNINGS: Lots of non-con and coercive themes -- oh howdy Lots of swearing. Some sexual props. Some bondage. Heavy dominance/submission themes.
WORD COUNT: 3792
CHAPTER THREE
I think my goth-gaurds started to feel a bit sorry for me on the long walk down to the parking structure. I was thinking deeply about just how much this random Vampire was going to completely dismantle my life, which they seemed to interpret as me being scared shittless. They weren't entirely sure if I was intimidated by them or the situation, so they tried to reassure me on both fronts.
"You know, I had to stop you back there," said Jim, the ever so fractionally smaller of the two. "Trust me, if I hadn't, you'd have gotten a lot worse than a twisted arm out of it. But it wasn't personal."
"Er… thanks," I managed. "I guess." I rubbed my shoulder reflexively.
Ted tried as well. "So… You aren't a born again, are you?"
The question took me aback for a moment, because it seemed to come out of nowhere. "No," I said before I realized that I might have been able to use that as an excuse to beg off. Most vampires find Evangelicals and their "get away thee spawn of Satan" attitude annoying as fuck and just don't want to deal with them. Of course, those who aren't deterred generally make life very, very bad for those who try that tactic. It's not a healthy religious choice.
On second thought, I probably couldn't have used the excuse. Lord Jeffrey was looking to punish himself, being some shrill bible thumping heteronorm would probably have just made me all the more appealing. What was up with my luck? Did I piss off God somehow?
"Hmm," said Jim. "I don't know what they tell you about this back in your part of the world, but it really isn't that bad, man. I've done this lots of times. You just have to relax and give yourself permission to enjoy it." He coughed a bit and scratched the side of his face sheepishly. "Not that I'm saying you should expect anything. He might just bite you and send you on if you really are disgusting as it says in your file. What I mean is, just go with the flow, and try not to take it too seriously."
"Yeah, I'll try to do that." I wished he'd stop talking to me.
"Don't sweat it so much, dude. Don't want to be sending you into therapy or something."
We reached the car during this pep-talk. I wasn't surprised to see it was a late model silver Cadillac Escalade. After all nothing says vampire like a sports-utility vehicle too pretty to actually use for sport or utility. I took one of the middle row captain's chairs and was happy when my escort took the front seats, effectively turning their backs on me for the first time since I met them.
Apparently out of sight meant out of mind for these guys, because we weren't even out of the parking structure before my presence was pretty much completely ignored in favor of the two talking incessantly (and I do mean incessantly, especially Jim, the guy barely paused for breath) about their recent clubbing experiences. My assessment that the two were basically brainless himbos was confirmed, and even though they had the thinnest veneer of fashionable bisexual cred, it became abundantly clear they were both ridiculously straight, and measured their self-worth by the number of vaginas they'd pronged. Anyway, the two of them TMIed me all the way down the Kennedy Expressway.
Quietly, I slid my computer out of the case and opened it up, and in seconds had it loading up a copy of Vestalar's Bible. Bible is a pretty heavy term for it, but skimpy as it is, it's still pretty much the handiest thing I've ever seen when it concerns Vampires. Pamphlet would be a better word. It's actually a pretty small thing, less than 100 kb of plain text, all but 4 paragraphs of which is one giant three column list. I'm sure the biters have been trying to squash this thing since Vestular crawled out of whatever cave he lives in and uploaded it to the internet, but like goatse, it's everywhere. Every time a site containing it goes down, it's just uploaded somewhere else, within minutes, and I'm sure millions of guys like me have a copy of it just sitting on their computer somewhere, just because it's such a freaking important thing.
I'll admit, I've always liked Vestular. He reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. Rude and black humored. My theory has always been that he's a Undesireable like me, traveling from city to city, compiling notes on the vampires on all the places he's been to. I admit being enough of a fanboy to occasionally fantasize that I'm sharing an airport with him. One day, I'd love to sit next to him on a flight and just talk.
Today, for the first time, I found myself disappointed in him. I scrolled down the list until I got to Chicago and there was Lord Jeffrey Bruins. Social, eccentric, unpredictable, overall not too bad.
That's it. That's all there is about the guy. Overall not too bad - compared to what?. I closed the lid on my computer and gave in to despair.
Other than the distracting front seat conversation, the ride through town was wholly unremarkable, and that turned out to be a terrible thing, because among the many things that didn't happen was me coming up with a coherent plan for getting out of my situation. When we finally pulled off into the narrow, tunnel-like underground parking structure of the Garvy Tower, I'd actually given up.
Hey, it's just blood and some touchy feely. And even if I'm not actually puke flavored the worst that would happen is that everything would come out. That would honestly be a bit of relief. I'd get reclassified. I can always get another job, one that doesn't require so much traveling. And hell, maybe it would be nice to settle down a bit. Get a pet. I already know I don't have any of the truly good tasting number combos, so this service would be it for me.
You know, maybe Lord Fancy Trousers won't care. I mean, while my misclassification might mean a lot to me, it might mean less than dick to him. After all I'm just one of about 10,000 people he has exclusive rights to. Well, exclusive when I'm not abroad. When I'm abroad, I'm free pickings for anyone, hence my current situation. This is why Wally has such a hard time getting a travel permit, even though his Patron rarely calls him up. But if I taste mediocre, why even bother changing my classification? No one's going to want me anyway.
Yeah. All I have to do is just be cool and not dig myself in deeper and I could just sail through this with nothing more than an annoying $100 rescheduling fee on my airline tickets, which I can expense. I've lived through worse travel delays for shittier reasons. Plus, everything I know about vampires comes from the internet, which we all know is full of crap. This could be nothing. Nothing at all.
There's a word for this kind of thinking. It's called "denial."
"Feeling better," Jim asked as he watched me climb out of the car.
"I guess. I suppose you've been through this a thousand times."
"Eh, not that many."
"Any tips? I mean, I don't want to piss him off. Sometimes I can get on people's nerves, when I, you know, don't live up to their expectations. Is there anything he finds… uh… pleasing?"
Ted considered. "Just be quiet and do what your told."
"Gotcha. I'll blend with the furniture."
"That's the ticket," confirmed Jim.
In the elevator, I checked my cell phone, thinking vaguely about warning Wally I'd be late. There was no reception. In the middle of Chicago?
Jim noticed the phone and said, "Signal's jammed. Lord Jeffrey doesn't allow outside communication devices in his sanctuary. Security reasons." He nodded to my laptop. "You won't get the internet either. If there's anyone you need to call, I can do it for you on the land line."
I thought about Wally getting a phone call from some anonymous vampire's help and decided against it. Too spooky. There was no urgent reason to call anyway. No one was waiting at the airport for me -- I travel too much to sponge rides. I come and go without much fanfare.
"Nah, I'll give a call when I leave."
I honestly don't know how much of the twelve story lake front medium-rise belonged to Jeffrey, but apparently it was at least three floors. Compared to this, Lady Dingalings million dollar hillside mansion was cheap and tiny. I passed through two lobbies, then got ushered up some steps and finally walked into a clinic room. This time the nurse who examined me didn't seem to find anything worrisome. After about thirty seconds of half-hearted prodding, he kicked me out of the room with a clean bill of health. I was immediately shown to the lounge where I ended up spending half the night.
The lounge rocked. It was a huge room, with only five of us rattling around in it. It had stunning views of the lake, a huge screen TV off to one end softly playing some romantic comedy, and at the other end of the room was a buffet of outstanding food. Oh my God, the food. My stomach perked up with great interest. After I'd resigning myself to whatever rubbery crap the airline called dinner, this was an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. There were these tiny sandwiches with their crusts cut off and really delicious stuff inside - as far above tuna fish as tuna is above cat food. And there were crackers and a complicated nut and vegetable paste. Ten different types of cheese of various degrees of stinkiness, and olives, oysters, pasta salad made out of genuine angels, and stuffed mushrooms worth going to hell for. The only thing missing was booze. The spread cried out for nice crisp white wine, but the closest thing offered was Martinelli's very non-alcoholic fizzy apple cider. Er… no thanks.
I took a caffeine free Pepsi, and plate full of bite sized bliss, and settled myself on a couch away from the TV. "Man, I could go for a beer," I said.
"I hear ya. I'm jonesing for a cigarette myself," said a slightly horse woman standing at the buffet table. "I guess vamps like their meals drug free or something." I looked up and appraised her.
There is just no kind term for it: she was somewhere between ugly and hideous. Her face was squat and lopsided, with one eye noticeably lower than the other, and her neck was too thin for the size of her head. Her body seemed oddly lumpy. But she'd obviously put a fair amount of work into her appearance. Her hair was actually quite beautiful, glossy and attractively cut. I recognized her clothes as being fashionable and reasonably flattering to her figure.
"I guess so," I replied. "I've never done this before."
She laughed. "Me neither. I'm Undesirable. I kind of figured as compensation for my face I wouldn't have to submit to this indignity."
"Me, too. I'm not only Undesirable, I'm not even from around here."
"Are you really?" she said doubtfully.
I took that as a challenge to my "not around here" statement, and we soon were off on a topic of travel. Turns out she wandered for a living as well, supervising Red Cross projects around the world. That lead into a game of one-upmanship on the subject of exotic food which I quite soundly lost, being that, the current spread notwithstanding, I'm something of a culinary wuss. And you know what? After a couple of hours she stopped looking so awful. Not that I wanted to do her or anything, but I got used to her face and actually found it kind of fascinating. It belonged to her so uniquely. I think I'd have liked to have been her friend, but I never saw her again after that night.
Somewhere in the conversation the other guys joined us, and right off I noticed a trend. They all had something about them that went far beyond ordinary homely. One guy's jaw was just too long. Another guy's eyes were way too far apart. The third guy was all angles. They all stood out in such an unattractive way that I realized why Jim and Ted weren't so sure when they picked me up.
I looked at myself in the darkly glazed mirror and saw a complete poseur. Aside from being short, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my looks that a better hair cut and a touch of Clearacil couldn't correct. I'm not conceited enough to call myself handsome, but I'm definitely on the good-looking side of average. Anyway, my bowl cut and acne wasn't fooling anyone. I wasn't in the same class.
Our party lasted until about 10:30, and then one by one it was broken up. They came for big chin guy first. He gave us a salute and a "See ya around" and walked out the door.
We never saw him again. No, no, I don't think anything awful happened to him. After Lord Jeffrey was done with him, I'm sure he was escorted out of the building and on his way, just as Ted and Jim promised. Still, it was a bit spooky.
They took wide-eye guy next, then Red Cross lady, and finally skinny dude. At 11:15 I was the only one left in the lounge, the movie was long over and those little sandwiches weren't looking that tasty anymore.
They came for me ten minutes later, and my gut flip-flopped between relief that the wait was over and horror that the wait was over. At this point I knew I wasn't Undesirable. I just hoped that Lord Jeffrey wouldn't mind being pleasantly surprised.
Aside from being freaking huge, Lord Jeffrey's home must have been designed to hold off armies or maybe laid out by a paranoid person, because it was a maze. The narrow hallways went off at odd angles to the rooms, and there were security doors every ten feet. It would have been physically impossible to retrace my footsteps. Everywhere I went there were people eyeing me like some kind of unwelcome intruder. It was only by following my guide's fashionable high-heeled boots that I managed to get back to the elevator I'd first come up in - except no. I suddenly realized the interior was different - faux wood paneled instead of chrome and God I had no idea where I was.
"Did they give you a map when you first came on?" I asked.
My guide tittered. She was awfully cute: smaller than me, which is always a plus, in an itty bitty skirt and a jacket that hugged her tight about her waist then poofed out a bit over her small bosom. The leather creaked a little when she walked. I found it easier to think about the little pert sway in her hips than to contemplate what was coming.
I kept up a chatter which in my mind was charming but probably was lame. She kept up little flirty smiles that we both pretended was genuine interest. And all was okay for a few minutes until the reality of the situation came crashing back on me.
"This is where you take off you clothes," she said abruptly. I looked around and saw we'd somehow wandered into a giant closet. There were hangers, some of them filled, and cubbies for shoes and clothes. "Down to your underwear."
Yeah, I was kind of hoping the stripping part wasn't going to happen again. "In front of you?"
"I've seen much worse," she said with just a hint of are you shitting me? tucked into the corners of her smile. She was right, of course, the question was retarded. Expecting a vampire to respect my modesty is absolutely absurd. One doesn't care much about the chicken's sensibilities when one plucks it. "Hurry up," she continued, when apparently I didn't leap to doffing my clothes quite fast enough. "They'll want you any moment."
They. I swallowed. Suddenly I saw in my mind that giant canopy bed. That handcuff.
Okay, I know I've danced about the subject, but I really can't anymore. I honestly don't know why I feel so prudish about it. It's not exactly a secret. Even though the first thing the vamps did after taking over was to clamp way down on any information about them and their practices, some things are just out there. We all know what they do with their food.
They fuck it. Or they have someone else fuck it. Or both. The polite euphemism for it is "sweetening". Internet speculation runs that the hormones we humans dump into our blood when sexually aroused adds a pleasant drug like tingle to the taste, but this could be complete crap. Vampires don't tell us mortals dick about why they do stuff.
Anyway, to be called up to Service nearly invariably means being invited to an orgy, one you can't decline and have the dubious reassurance of knowing you'll enjoy. There is a reason why Wally absolutely refuses to discuss what goes on when he's called up - it's deeply fucking humiliating to anyone who puts any kind a premium on their sex life. It's fucking State sanctioned rape.
There, I said it.
I undressed with the fussiness of a blushing virgin, which I halfway was. I mean, I've had a couple of relationships in the past that have gone all the way, but they've all been with girls. And one thing I do know about Lord Jeffrey, he isn't a girl. And, yes, I do wave my bisexual flag just like everyone else, because it's what you gotta do these days to keep from being labeled a bigot. But like most guys I'm a bit of a liar. I mean, sure, there are some guys I'd do, under the right circumstances (and Wally has a lock on his door to keep me out when those situations arise). But 90 percent of the time given the option of a hot chick or a hot guy, my eyes tend to go chickward. I can't help it.
But even with girls there had never been more than one at a time. Maybe I lose a bit of my guy cred admitting this, but I'm really not big on club sex. Even with condoms all around there's just something skeevy and distasteful about shoving your cock into an anonymous hole, blowing your load and then walking off never to see the person again. Yuck.
And on that thought, I stopped feeling scared and I just felt mad. Mad at Lord Jeffrey for making me miss my plane. Mad that I had to share my body with people I don't give a fuck about. Mad that everyone just takes this whole ridiculous situation for granted. It's been twenty-five years since the Vampires took over. Why hasn't anyone tried to fight them off? When did we as species get so jaded that we figured that brown nosing these bastards was the better idea?
I put my laptop into a cubby on top of my folded trousers and turned to examine my pinstriped boxers in yet another bank of mirrors. Goddamn it but vampires were a narcissistic bunch. Was there anywhere you could turn your head and not have your looks being thrown back in your face? At least mine were pretty normal, if not quite up to the standard around here, but I can't help but think that Red Cross Lady and the others weren't too thrilled about it.
"How long will this take?" I grumbled. Please make it short.
"Maybe five minutes?" said my escort.
But not that short, Jesus! "Five? That's pretty -- quick." I winced. Can't I expect a little foreplay at least? Get into the mood?
"Well it's not like they are going to really feed on you," said the woman. "And you won't be a part of the sex."
My jaw dropped. "They aren't? I won't?" Okay, I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I was just a wee bit disappointed -- momentarily -- by this. Mostly because I'd been girding myself up for a molestation all evening and now it seems that I really didn't have anything to fear after all.
Mostly I felt relief. Huge heaving breaths of relief. The kind of relief that makes you wanna run through downtown hi-fiving strangers.
"Nah, they have Tina and Ron in there for the real meal, you are just there for fun."
So I was being invited to spy for 5 minutes on someone else's orgy. Joy.
"Go in and sit down on the teal couch, don't move unless they tell you to. Don't talk unless they ask you a question, and leave when they say you are dismissed."
"Seems hardly worth me showing up for." 6 hours of my life wasted…
She ignored that and went on: "Oh, and I know this isn't much comfort, but they are going to tease you about your appearance…" she hesitated. "Though, you know, for an Undesirable…" She looked me up and down speculatively. "Anyway, try not to take it too seriously, they're just trying to make you sour."
"I'm plenty sour. Will he actually bite me?"
"Yes. Then declare how disgusting you are and dismiss you."
"Lovely. Delightful people. What then?"
"Come back here, and put on your clothes, I'll have a driver take you home."
I really wanted to be home then, too bad that was 1000 miles away.
I pressed my lips together and straightened up. "Okay, it's not as bad as I was expecting." Considering my first worry was that I was going to be tortured, and my second that I'd be raped -- a few mean words -- pfft. Though it did absolutely confirm my notion that all vampires are at their hearts assholes. In a way this was rather anticlimactic, pun intentional.
There was a little tinkling bell sound. "That's your signal." She opened up a second door in the back of the closet and gestured for me to go.
I walked into the Lord Jeffries presence actually confident that I had nothing to worry about. Ha, ha, yeah, well, I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong. Not that it mattered. I lost my chance to escape fate back at the airport. All I was doing here was cruising into hell on neutral.
Back to Chapter Two
On to Chapter Four