Work, and Contest! GET OVER HERE! Vampire Part 4
July 7, 2011 § 8 Comments
First, working is a glorious thing, with the understandable qualification that it is at a job that does not routinely crush its employees beneath the iron treads of capitalist progress. If the wheels of your business are greased with human joy, dreams, and its vast engines powered by despair, you should find another job. Just as a thought. (And the benefits suck.)
But if you’re lucky and work at a place where the weight of the world doesn’t sit on your shoulders, just working is in so many ways liberating. You have a job to do. It gets done. You can shake the hand of your employer, who in return, gives you money. This is the sort of common magic that is really weird sometimes. I can sell things in a store, and if I do it long enough, my hours of selling things can turn into a house, or a car, or a game or something. I did not make that house, that car, that game, or that something, and yet, in a very real way, I did. Weird.
However, one downside is that I’m not used to the schedule that quickly shredded my old surplus of free time, and requires me to wake up sometime before noon. Barbaric. I’m not writing as much as I should because of that, especially since an important story deadline is 8 days away. Must get on that.
Second, oh goodness go listen to Tegan and Sara. I recommend the album The Con. Go. You will thank me. Gold is an acceptable form of compensation.
Third, have more things to read. I’m going to probably milk this story over the next two weeks, but there’s a reason I swear! We’ll get back to Ash and Dust. Man, the more I see that title the more I cringe. It sounded a little cooler at 2 in the morning, but inertia can be a very, very strong inducement not to do anything. Although, my constant cringing might eventually work. Any ideas, people?
Fourth, because as much as I like you people who do come here and read my stuff, I’m dropping the hammer. It’s time for a change. I want to hear from you as much as I want you to read my work. You’re my guinea pigs in exchange for free things to read, and it’s time for the injections.
I want everyone who reads this story to comment, and in that comment, I want you to include one (1) thing you liked and 1 (one) thing you didn’t. If there’s more than one for both, great! I want to hear how good I am, but more than that I need to hear how much I suck. This is your chance! If you don’t like what I do, tell me! If you do, tell me! If you don’t do either, prepare to endure my burning wrath! It sears.
But oh yes, is there something in it for you. I should be able to post all the The Vampire’s Touch in the next two weeks. It’s showed me how fun variety can be, and even though have two stories go constantly is hard (remember, I’ve already finished Touch), I like it because it’s a good challenge to my (lack of) organizational skills, a good way to practice my short(er) fiction, and it’s plain fun to work on different stories. So when I’m done Touch, I will naturally look around for something else to write.
And one winner will tell me what that is.
Whoever comments on this page, no matter how crappy it is, will get entered into a raffle. I’ll draw a name on Saturday, and the winner will get to propose a story idea for my next project on this site that will run side-by-side with Ash and Dust (shudder). I’ll write a story that features, well, whatever you want. You want an erotic Harry Potter fiction? Sure. You want blood-and-guts sword-and-sorcery jaunt? Sure. You want an experimental story that questions human purpose and endeavour? Sure. Do you want me to tell a story using only the “x” key? Well, sure. I guess. The point is, you call it. This is the cheapest you’ll get for a chance to commission something for your own (if by “own” you mean “posted on my blog for anyone who wants to see it”).
Because, as much as I want to drum up simple support for this site, if you’re actually reading my stuff and enjoying it, that’s all I really care about. And if I have to write stories about “Harry’sForbidden Hogwarts Adventure”, so be it. I know some people read this, so you can’t hide!
“Well, uh, I suppose that would…I mean to say that, I do appreciate the attention, but…what?”
Mina’s eyes turned a strange shade of copper. Bond’s trousers felt uncomfortably tight as he noticed that he could look down her dress. She had released a few buttons from the top of her gown, revealing the pale white flesh beneath, run through with bright blue veins like gold in stone. “Come now, Campion. I have seen the stares you’ve sent me throughout our service. I have seen the…spark in your eyes when you thought I wasn’t looking. There are worse women to fall for than a vampire, but not many. Ordinarily, I wrote off your advances as the foolish posturing of a young boy, thinking nothing and not envying your chances of earning my affection.”
Campion straightened. “Foolish boy? Mina, I should think that you do me wrong…” The rest was cut off as she savagely grabbed the back of his head and drew his lips to hers. Her skin may have been cold, but her kiss was as hot as blood. Though caught by surprise, he relaxed and fell into her grip, even raising his hands to grab her shoulders.
Through their kisses, she got out a few words. “Oh Campion, do shut up. Normally you were nothing to me but a colleague and an acquaintance, but tonight, seeing you in that suit and smelling whatever exquisite perfume you dressed yourself with, I realize what a truly handsome and delectable morsel you are. Propriety be damned. I must have you. Now.”
A small light blinked on in Campion’s brain, even as most of it was preoccupied with what was happening somewhere lower. He pulled his lips from her neck (he suddenly realized with a start that hers went straight to his) and blurted out, “Wait, you like this suit?”
She seemed exasperated; annoyed at his pause. “Yes, you silly boy, it brings your finer features to the fore in a way that I’ve not noticed before.”
With those words he felt his heart plummet several stories to crash into bits on the wooden floor. She thinks nothing of me, he thought, but the Bloodsilk’s turned her mind to mush. She didn’t want him, he realized, but the scent of the suit had turned on some primal vampire urge, and, as she was no longer hungry for blood, tickled another hunger it seemed she possessed.
Bond felt sick as his hope was utterly destroyed by her admission. There was no romance here, there was no true feeling between the pair of them. She wanted what he was wearing, and for a moment, he had wanted nothing more than what was between her legs. He almost felt sick with himself. Almost.
She had begun to kiss his neck with a mounting urgency, when he pushed her away gently. “Please, Mina. Let’s go back to the others, lest they get suspicious.”
A small growl entered her voice, which stroked parts of his brain that had nothing to do with his ego. “I want you, Bond.”
A new desperation entered him as he felt two small pinpricks on his flesh. “Oh yes, and I assure you the feeling is mutual, but that I promised cigars, and if you would have no objections, we might continue this once the others have retired.”
She pulled herself from his neck, somewhat reluctantly, and placed a hand on his belt buckle. Bond’s heart truly jumped into his throat and began to block all the air coming in. “Very well. But I assure you that in that case, you will get no sleep tonight.”
Mina turned and adjusted herself in the hallway mirror, before gliding back to the dining room. Bond all but ran to his room upstairs, panting heavily. He slumped against the four poster bed, while cherubim glared down accusingly from the canopy. He shrugged up at them and lay down, his thoughts consuming him.
She wanted him in a way that no other woman had before. And to be sure, he had done many terrible things to get more than a few women into bed with him. But Mina had always been different. Perhaps it was her peculiar condition that leant her such a mercenary attitude, but he found her power and independence striking. She was everything that the women who fawned over him for his money and status were not. Ill-mannered where they were cultured, thin where they were voluptuous, violent where they were mannered; she was nothing he thought he wanted, and yet everything that he realized he did want.
And here she is, all but bending over for me. The thought excited and sickened him. Mina Harker née Murray, should never desire so openly. He looked forlornly at himself in the standing mirror. His rumpled hair and strong chin told half the story. Why certainly, he was attractive, reasonably intelligent, and most assuredly capable, but he lacked the animal confidence that Mina possessed and had admired. The suit, the damnable suit, replaced anything that he needed to be for her, and instead made her an unwilling servant.
He made to take it off, but a small voice in his head urged him to keep it on. What harm is there in wearing it? Surely she is attracted to more than the blood woven into the silk, surely there is something in her cold, half-dead heart that desires what you are. Do not assume you are leading her about unwillingly. Perhaps she simply needed a little…push in your direction.
But he couldn’t! If he did, he was the same as Fu Manchu using a mind controlling spell on a poor innocent. It was his sworn duty to Crown and Empire to stop men and women who acted thusly. He would shame every Bond that would ever live if he stooped to dishonourable behaviour for the sake of a little romp. Finally, it would shame him. Bond was by no means a saint, but to knowingly do such a thing: it was tantamount to Hawley raping a woman in her sleep.
He rose and took off his jacket, but the nagging voice would not go away. The feeling in his trousers also made it exceedingly difficult to think straight. He changed into his heavy, crushed velvet smoking jacket and slippers, but kept the Bloodsilk trousers, shirt, and tie. A little smoke and a little drink will help me settle my thoughts.
Bond walked back downstairs and into the salon. The others were sitting around, pleasantly sated. At a signal from Campion, Charles began handing out fine Partagás cigars, straight from the Republic of Cuba and a grateful ambassador who had been having trouble acquiring a certain Viennese woman. Bond, a younger man at the time, had been happy to help.
Bond seated himself besides Jekyll again, while he noticed that Mina was smoking happily, speaking with Nemo besides the fire. She did not pay any attention to Bond, which only served to stoke the fires inside him, even as the fine cigar taste turned to dust in his mouth.
“Something bothering you, Campion?”
Allain had come to sit on his left, while Jekyll turned to listen. Bond fumbled for an excuse.
“No, nothing. I was…merely thinking of what new threat the Empire will have to face, now that the Germans are growing belligerent in Africa.”
Jekyll tittered, while Allain smiled, the slash of his mouth on his weather-beaten face looking carved from stone. “Bond, I have nothing but respect for you, but never play cards. Your poker face is more telling than tracks on the Savannah. It’s Harker, isn’t it?”
“What? Of course not! What would make you think that…I mean, not that I would say no, but please Quatermain! Not at all!”
Jekyll leaned in. “Then why did she disappear from the table when you went to answer the door? And by that, I mean she literally disappeared and only reappeared a moment ago, talking to Nemo. I don’t know if he noticed her coming back. He’s been telling the story of the time he sailed around the world using nothing but a coracle and a drunk flamingo.”
“Oh yes, the one with the Malaysian broom and Canadian whisky. Quite good, that one, and for Nemo. But come now Bond. You can tell us, we’re all chaps here, eh?”
Bond looked from Allain’s earnest face to Jekyll’s simple smile. He sighed, brushing some ash from his sleeve.
“It is only that I’ve had my eye on her for some time,”
Allain interrupted him. “Well, yes, I think that half of London knows that by now.”
Bond was aghast. “Truly? I’ve done my best to keep it hidden! How did you find out?”
“Bond, chap, I’ve hunted lions by scent before. Telling when a man fancies a lady is easy by comparison. But she’s been, shall we say, unapproachable?” Allain took a slug of whisky from a flask at his side, and then a shot of gin from a glass on the table.
Bond nodded. “Why yes, until tonight. I bought this damnable Bloodsilk suit, thinking it would impress her. Stupid, I know, considering it’s just silk dyed with cow blood and red paint, but that the very scent of the thing leaves her desperate for a rut. You would think I painted myself with opium and threw myself in Shanghai bay.”
Allain laughed and clapped him on the back. “Well then, there you have it! A little push in the right direction was all she needed. I say when you a lion lies down and presents its neck to you, a wise hunter takes what he can easily get.” He puffed on his cigar. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a certain serving girl that, as you said, wants a little bit of Quatermain. Well, a lot, but you know how it is, eh?” He nodded to Jekyll and walked off.
Bond covered his face, and made a mental note to speak to Hannah tomorrow about finding a husband. Or at least a gag.