Avalon Revisited (2 page)

She cleared her throat, leaned away, and looked at me nonplussed. It was not proper to speak of a woman’s age. That question threw her off, just as I had hoped. I did like to toy with them, like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Well!” she said exasperated, snatching her hand away from mine.

Ah yes. Time to feign offense.

I just ignored her, even though the temperature of the room had dropped to colder than my own body temperature. I could feel the chill in the air, but a specific part of me was generating enough heat for the both of us. I resumed kissing her neck as if nothing had happened, and after a moment or two she once again softened beside me. She wasn’t about to give up the only chance she had for such a romp. Perhaps my faux pas would at least help her drop the pretense of innocence.

She turned into me and lifted my head, eager for more. She kissed me full on the lips, parting them with her aggressive, soft tongue.

Pretense dropped!

As the kiss deepened I lifted her to a standing position, striving to press against her. My excitement drove through her layers of clothes, and she felt my hardness pressed up against her leg. To my great surprise, she smiled, breaking the kiss. She ran her gloved hand up my inseam, and now it was I who gasped.

Certainly not her first time.

She massaged my shaft through my trousers and started kissing me again. I ran my hands up and down her body, trying to figure out how to get inside that corset. Sometimes they were inside, sometimes out. Sometimes laced in front, others in back. Her gown was so exquisitely crafted, however, that I could not discern where to begin. Her caressing hand was urging me on.

Even one as experienced as I could only take so much stimulation and this woman was indeed stimulating. My desire for her flesh mounted, and the desire for her blood wasn’t far behind. The need began to consume me. That all-encompassing need. The hunger. The darkness that kept me dead yet alive. The thirst, but I had to keep it at bay. Just a little longer. After all, there were two needs to satisfy tonight.

I spun her around, holding her close with one arm while kissing her neck. With the other hand, I freed myself from the burden of my trousers. Grinding myself against her hips, I nibbled gently down her neck until she moaned. That small sound was all I could stand.

In a blur of movement that surprised even me, I bent her over the bed and hiked up her crimson skirts. She gasped, knowing what was to follow. That beautiful bustle stared up at me.

But I slowed down, wanting her to need me inside her more than she needed to breathe. I took my time and savored the vision before me. White stockings stretched from her white-heeled, laced-up boots, its seam perfectly straight, guiding me up the back of her legs to her thighs. I ran a hand up each seam from her delicate ankles up to the top of her stockings. Then, flesh.

Velvety white flesh that was as pale as my own hands. At the apex, a pink blossom, covered in dew. My hands caressed between her thighs and then softly between her petals, just once, causing her to squirm, her breath coming faster. Standing, I grazed something else between those rosy gates, feeling her wetness on my tip. I teased her at first, barely nudging the head inside her.

She tried to thrust back into me, but I wouldn’t let her. Not yet.

She grabbed at the lacy off-white bed covering frantically, taking handfuls of Venetian lace in her fists. She rested her shoulders and cheek on the bed. Her delicate features were twisted in a mixture of agony and pleasure. Yearning and suspense.

“Ask me,” I said to her, sliding my tip up and down her moist nook.

But she couldn’t speak. She was too hungry for words.

“Ask me,” I repeated.

“Please,” she managed between shallow breaths. One of her hands began grabbing desperately at her corset, trying to relieve the pressure.

I increased the pace of gliding up and down her misty petals, pressing harder against her. Her breath coming faster and faster until I brought her. She cried out in delight as her body drenched me with its pleasure.

It was all I could take. I plunged inside her, giving her what we both wanted. Grabbing her hips with both hands, I crashed into her repeatedly, watching her scarlet bustle dance along with us. She came again and again, singing her exultation into the night, but I held out.

I withdrew from her, still throbbing, and threw her up onto the bed. She turned over and looked at me, face flush. She grabbed at her bodice again, probably unable to breathe in her restraints. I didn’t care about how to carefully get into her dress anymore, so I ripped it open to the corset and then ripped that down the seams. No time for unlacing. Her breasts, now free, swelled in her excitement. I gripped one, teasing her nipple with my tongue before moving on to the other.

She took a deep breath and pulled me on top of her, kissing me deeply. She angled her hips toward me, and I slid back inside her, more gently this time, allowing her to kiss me as I rocked against her. She met each thrust in kind.

I had always been amazed at the passion of these High Society London women. All the stuffiness and etiquette that had been strapped so tightly inside their corset was unleashed in the bedroom. Good for me.

We moved together faster and harder, until she came again. She threw her head back and cried out, loudly. Surely the party below had to be able to hear us, but I didn’t care about that.

Not now. For now it was my turn. I bore down on her, grabbing her shoulders as I thrust deeper and deeper inside her. Her head was still thrown back in ecstasy, giving me the perfect opportunity. I ripped the pearl choker from her throat. My fangs descended and I plunged them into her neck while still thrusting inside her. She screamed, but not in terror, in euphoria again.

I exploded inside her just as her blood began to gush into my mouth. I held her beneath me as she began to squirm. She was shouting something, but I didn’t hear words. I was too engulfed in the rapture of her blood. I drank deep, and I heard her heartbeat begin to slow. Before I could bring myself to pull away, it had stopped all together.

I had lost control in my passion and killed her. I had only intended to feed and then wipe her memory of it.

Oh well.

I withdrew from her and redressed. Her blood, the little I had left, trickled down the side of her throat and stained the ivory bed, coloring it to match her fine gown. I ripped some lace off the canopy and wiped my mouth clean.

There she lay. Legs spread wide. Breasts lolled out. Glassy eyes of death: a vision.

Still, must allow her some dignity,
I thought, so I straightened her legs and covered her up with her skirts. She probably wouldn’t be found until morning or perhaps afternoon. Not until the chambermaid did her rounds. This was a guest room, so it was low priority without a guest present.

I pulled my watch out of the small pocket in my waistcoat and looked at the time.

I still had hours before dawn.

Perhaps a dance or two before I retire.

My butler walked across the dining room to the balcony overlooking Kensington Road where I liked to start my days with a hot cup of tea. With one hand, he balanced a silver platter on which he carried today’s newspaper. The other arm was properly tucked in close to his stomach, hand clenched in a soft fist. The perfectly folded towel draped across that arm bounced against his belly as he moved towards me.

Of all the rooms in my home, this one was the brightest, albeit still rather dark. The walls were of a deep rose accented in gold. Huge portraits of noble men long forgotten stood proudly in their golden frames that hung along each wall. Heavy wine-colored curtains framed both front-facing windows, beneath one of which I sat at a small, round table waiting for my tea. An iron fireplace dominated the middle of one wall. Dormant, as it was too warm to have a fire at this time of year, but it certainly added to the comfort of the room when I entertained guests in the winter. A long wooden table sitting atop a lengthy burgundy rug filled the center of the room.

The table wasn’t currently set, although a silver candelabra surrounded by fresh flowers served as a centerpiece until my next dinner party. Over it hung a grand wrought iron chandelier, lit only during dinner parties, as wax dripping from so many candles became quite tiresome to endure. At the opposite end of the room was an alcove that held a beautiful mural of a pastoral scene, similar to that seen in Italian Villas. I did enjoy my finery.

“Good morning, m’lord.”

“It’s afternoon, Cecil. I know it’s morning for me,” I said as Cecil opened his mouth to protest, “but we must be accurate in these things.”

“Of course, m’lord. Your paper, m’lord,” he said smugly with an expression to match his tone.

“Thank you.”

I took the paper from Cecil, and the headlines screamed at me:
VAMPYRE ATTACK

“Oh dear.”

“Your cheeks look quite rosy this morning, m’lord,” Cecil said, folding the now empty platter under his arm. One corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile.

“Enough, Cecil. Bring me more tea.”

“Yes, m’lord. Right away, m’lord.” Cecil smirked as he bowed, then turned to leave the room. A small, stout man, Cecil was the perfect butler. He was professional and courteous. He was supportive and, most importantly, discreet.

I read the article about the vampire attack while waiting for more tea, but there was no mention of a suspect. Yet. The article reported that the police found the victim’s body in a

“compromising position.”

“It was certainly compromised,” I mumbled to myself, remembering the delicious pleasure of the previous night. I could still feel the warmth of her surrounding me and filling my mouth at the same time. Ah. The meaning of my life: pleasures of the flesh. Everything else had melted away into a blur of faded memories and stolen dreams. Existence became quite tedious after the first century. One finds pleasures where one can.

From my north-facing balcony, I looked out onto Hyde Park stretching out in shades of green before me. Speckled amongst the foliage were a swarm of what appeared to be multicolored insects, at least from my perspective. Some carried parasols, others walking canes. It was a Saturday, so many families were taking a turn around the park’s loveliness. Surprisingly it wasn’t raining. An airship hung in the sky, suspended over the trees. Its propellers moved far too slowly, one would think, to hold up such a massive balloon. I didn’t understand this modern technology, and I didn’t care to. Dirigibles were the latest fascination in London. On pleasant Saturday afternoons such as today, a well-known airship captain would give commoners rides for a crown.

Saturday evenings were reserved for London’s crème de la crème. Tonight, that would include me. I have never been on an airship before, but I’m certain it will be quite the experience.

Although it was summer, it was almost always overcast. This made it a perfect place for one like me to live. I still didn’t venture out during daylight hours too often, in case the sun decided to peek out without warning. However I was able to go out before dusk on most days and in the rain, of course, which in London was quite often. Today, it would be important for me to be seen during the daylight hours. Just in case someone saw me with the woman last night. My place in London society demanded it, as did the impression of my innocence.

Cecil returned with the tea.

“One drop or two?” Cecil inquired while filling my cup with the steaming hot liquid.

“Just one today. I had my fill last evening.”

Cecil peeled back his sleeve and exposed a leather cuff encircled with a rubber tube. The contraption was held on his arm with two leather belts, which fastened on the bottom. On top of his wrist, connected to one side of the tubing, was a pressure valve; the other side, a small spigot.

Holding his wrist over the cup of tea, Cecil opened the spigot until a single drop of blood plopped into my cup. The pressure valve bobbed momentarily and then steadied again.

Perhaps modern technology did have its perks.

“Will that be all m’lord?” Cecil asked as he dabbed the end of the spigot, creating a tiny red spot on the white towel always kept over his arm, before pulling his starched white sleeve back over the starched cuff. His appearance was always impeccably perfect.

“Yes, Cecil. That will be all.”

Cecil turned to leave with a curt nod and I picked up the newspaper again. He was nearly to the doorway when I stopped him.

“Oh yes. There is one more thing, Cecil.”

“Yes, m’lord?” he said, making a sharp about-face.

“Have Thomas ready the carriage,” I said, still looking at the paper in my hands. “I’m going out.”

“Today, m’lord?”

“Yes, Cecil. I would like to go out today,” I responded, indicating the headline with a flap of my hand. The middle of the newspaper bore an ad for airship rides in the park. A large drawing of a balloon suspended over a ship dominated most of the ad. The words HYDE PARK were displayed boldly across the top.

“But, m’lord. It is a rather nice day and there are many people about.”

I snapped the newspaper down into my lap and turned towards him.

“Yes, Cecil, what of it?” I spat.

“You don’t like people, m’lord. Also, m’lord, you have the party tonight.”

“Of course, how very, very trite. But one must find such distractions, Cecil, or one’s life will become too unbearable to, well, bear.”

The meaninglessness of existence truly had hit me when I turned forty, twenty-five years after my death. I had grown tired of life, mine and theirs. All of it. I couldn’t see much point to it.

One was born. One lived for a certain number of mostly agonizing years, and then one died.

Truly pointless. All around me people lived, well, survived, as one couldn’t call what most did living, mostly in utter misery, yet they were afraid of death. Strange. Seems as if death would be a release from the monotony and pain of life, but there it was. Of course, I’m one to talk. Over 350 years later I still existed. I was unable to conceive of nothingness, so I just continued to survive. Find distractions when I could. Did whatever to pass the time. Pleasure when possible.