Naked Shorts (22 page)

“Just give it a shot, Samson,” he insisted. “The guy is completely trustworthy. He won”t breathe a syllable to anybody about this.”

His old friend couldn”t possibly be serious. “A shrink? You want me to go see a shrink?”

“He”s helped me a lot before. What have you got to lose?”

His dignity, his pride.

“I guess if you vouch for him, I can give it a try.” And just like that, he”d caved. Was it desperation?

“And don”t judge him from the outside.”

The place was a joke. When Samson first entered the dark basement where the psychiatrist practiced, he wanted to run right back out. But the receptionist had already spotted him. With a saccharin sweet smile and straightened back, she put her large chest on display.

Great, a shrink operating from a dungeon and a Barbie doll as the gatekeeper!

“Mr. Woodford, please come in. Dr. Drake is expecting you,” her high-pitched voice invited him.

Once he”d made his way into Drake”s office, he knew it was a mistake. Instead of a couch there was a coffin. One of the wooden side panels had been removed so a live person could lie down in it comfortably as if lying down on a chaise lounge.

The guy had to be a lunatic. No self-respecting modern vamp would want to be caught dead in a coffin! Vampires in San Francisco were mainstreaming, adapting to the human lifestyle.

Coffins were out. Tempur-Pedic mattresses were in.

The lanky man rounded his desk and stretched out his hand to greet him.

“If you think I”m going to lie down in the coffin, you”ve got it coming,” Samson barked.

“I see, we have our work cut out for us.” The doctor seemed unfazed by the rude remark. He pointed at the comfortable looking armchair. Reluctantly, Samson sat down.

Dr. Drake let himself fall in the chair opposite. As the doctor studied him for the first few minutes, Samson shifted nervously, hands clamped over the armrests of the chair.

“Can we get started? I believe I”m paying you by the hour.” Offensive was better than defensive, he”d learned early in life.

“We started the minute you came in here, but then I”m sure you knew that.” Dr. Drake”s smile was non-committal, his voice even.

Samson narrowed his eyes, trying to block out the implied reprimand. “Indeed.”

“Since when have you had these anger issues?”

The words were not what he”d expected. Maybe a question more along the lines of
So, what
brings you here?,
but not this direct assault on his already battered psyche. He should have asked Amaury more about the doctor”s methods before agreeing to make an appointment.

“Anger issues? I don”t have anger issues. I”m here for …, the issue is …, uh, my problem has to do with …” God, since when could he not say the word sex without being flustered? He”d never had any problems expressing himself when it came to sex. His vocabulary included many choice four letter words he generally had no problem spurting from his lips whenever necessary.

“Uh-huh.” The doctor nodded as if he knew something Samson didn”t. “You think it”s a sexual problem. Interesting.”

Was the man a mind reader? Samson was aware that some vampires had additional gifts. He himself had a complete photographic memory. He knew that others of his kind could see the future or read minds, but he wasn”t sure how widespread those talents were.

He needed to know whether he was at a disadvantage with this man. He didn”t want to work with somebody who could read him like a book when he didn”t want to be read. “Do you read minds?”

Drake shook his head. “No. But your problem is not uncommon. It”s pretty easy to figure out. You exhibit signs of extreme anger and frustration.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward in emphasis. “Mr. Woodford, I”m well aware of who you are. You run one of the most successful companies in the vampire world, if not
the
most successful. You are rich beyond belief - and trust me this will not influence how much I”ll charge you -”

“Of course not,” Samson interrupted. The quack would charge him what he thought Samson was willing to pay. It wouldn”t be a first. He was used to people trying to inflate their prices because they knew he could afford it. But they usually tried only once. Nobody cheated him and got away with it.

“And at the same time, you haven”t been seen in society for quite some time when you should be out there, courting beautiful women. I suppose your breakup with Ilona Hampstead had something to do with this.”

“I”m not here to talk about her.” Samson let out a quick breath. He refused to even say her name. She had no part in his life, not anymore, and the mere mention of her name made his fangs itch for a vicious bite. He cracked his knuckles. Would the sound be the same if
that woman’s
neck snapped? It would be music to his ears.

“Maybe not about her, but maybe about what she did. There can only be one reason for this.

And we both know what it is. So, the question is now, are you going to trust me to help you?”

Drake”s blue eyes punctuated his point.

“Do what?” Samson decided to stick with denial. It had worked so far.

“Get over the anger.” The doctor was as insistent as Samson was stubborn.

“I told you, it”s not an anger issue.”

A knowing smile anchored around the doctor”s lips. “Oh, I believe it is. Whatever she did, it angered you so much that it”s putting a block on your sexual drive as if you didn”t want to make yourself vulnerable again.”

“I”m not vulnerable. I never was. Not since I”ve been a vampire.” The last thing Samson wanted to feel was being vulnerable. To him it was synonymous to being weak. If the doctor wasn”t careful with his accusations he”d soon find himself at the receiving end of Samson”s claws. Maybe a physical fight would relieve his frustrations.

“Not in the physical sense of the word. We are all aware of your strength and your power.

But I”m talking about your emotions. We all have them. We all struggle with them. Some more than others. Believe me, my calendar is booked solid with our fellow vampires who need help dealing with their emotions.”

The shrink looked at him. No, he couldn”t allow Drake to get this close. Emotions were a dangerous thing. They could destroy a man. Samson hauled himself out of the chair.

“I don”t think this is going to work.” The tightness in his chest bore witness to the effect Drake”s words had on him even though he was not ready to admit it. Not even to himself.

The doctor stood. “Ever since we”ve started mainstreaming,” Drake continued, undeterred,

“my practice has quadrupled. Adapting to the way humans live their lives has taken a toll on many of us. We now have to deal with emotional issues we kept buried for centuries. Literally.

You”re not alone. I can help you.”

Samson shook his head. Nobody could help him. He had to get through this on his own.

“Send me your bill. Good bye, Doc.”

He stormed out, knowing the doctor had hit a nerve.

Well, sex was overrated anyway. At least it was what he was trying to convince himself of.

There were nights when he believed his own lies, but it never lasted long. The truth was, he liked having sex, lots of it, but none of the sexy vampire women did it for him anymore. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn”t get an erection.

He”d never heard of such a thing happening to any vampire. Sexual virility was part and parcel of being a vamp in the first place. Being impotent was a foreign concept in the vampire world. Only humans became impotent. If the news became widespread he would lose all respect of his peers. It was unacceptable.

So eventually he”d conceded, and a month later he”d made another appointment in the hope there was something the quack could do for him.

Samson blinked and wiped away the memories of the last nine months. Tonight was his birthday. He would try to have some fun.

As he strode from his wingback armchair to the wet bar at the opposite end of his elegant sitting room, his movements were fluid, his body tall, muscular, yet slender.

Samson poured himself a glass of his favorite blood type and kicked it back like a human would down a shot of Tequila less the salt and lime. The thick liquid coated his throat and eased the thirst, dulling his hunger for other pleasures in the process. Good, no other pleasures would be satisfied tonight.

Same as the last two-hundred-and-seventy-six nights.

Not that he was counting.

Only his thirst for blood had been stilled, the rest of his body”s needs, while temporarily subdued, would go unmet. Sometimes he wished he could get drunk and forget about everything, but unfortunately, being a vampire meant he couldn”t get drunk like humans did. Alcohol had no effect on his body. What he”d give for a little numbness right now.

He had expressly told his pals not to get him any presents or throw him a party. Of course he knew it was futile and only a matter of time until they would be at his door. Like pilfering barbarians they would invade his home, raid his secret stash of quality drinks - mostly highly priced
0-neg
- and waste his waking hours with old stories he”d heard a hundred times.

They had given him a surprise birthday party on his 200th birthday, and it would be no different today, on his 237th with pretty much the same cast of characters.

In anticipation of the inevitable invasion of his privacy, he had dressed in dapper black pants and a dark grey turtleneck. Except for his signet ring, he wore no jewelry.

The phone”s ring tore through the quiet of his home. He looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was shortly before nine o”clock. Just as he”d thought, the boys were on their way.

“Yes?”

“Hey, birthday boy. How is it hanging?”

Not a good choice of words, definitely not.

“What is it, Ricky?” Despite Ricky”s Irish heritage, he had adopted many California expressions and now sounded more like a beach-boy-surfer-dude than the Irish lad he was deep down.

“I just want to wish you a great birthday and see what you”re doing tonight.” Why Ricky had to keep up the pretense, Samson really didn”t know. Wasn”t he aware that his surprise birthday party was already out of the bag?

Samson cut to the chase. “When”s everybody coming?”

“What do you mean?”

“What time are you guys going to surprise me with a birthday party?”

“How did you know? Never mind. The guys wanted me to make sure you were there. So don”t leave the house. And if our other
surprise
arrives before us, keep her there.”

Not again. He should have known. He bit back his anger.

“When will you guys ever learn that I”m not into strippers?”

Never have been, never will be.

Ricky laughed. “Yes, yes, but this one is special. She”s not just a stripper. She does extras.”

Would he be up for extras? Very unlikely.

“I think she”ll do something for you, you know what I mean. She”s good, so give her a chance, will you? It”s for your own good. You can”t go on like this. Holly said -”

Samson cut him off. So much for having some fun tonight. “You told Holly? Are you fucking nuts? She”s the biggest gossip of the underworld! I told you in confidence. How could you?” His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed. With his fangs suddenly protruding from his mouth, he could have scared a champion wrestler from here till Tuesday. But Ricky wasn”t a wrestler, and he wasn”t scared easily. Not even till Monday.

“Careful how you talk about my girlfriend, Samson. She”s not a gossip. And besides, she suggested that stripper. She”s a friend of Holly”s.”

Perfect! A friend of Holly”s. Sure, this was guaranteed to work!

Samson still fumed but recognized it was too late to call the whole thing off. “Fine.”

He slammed the phone down, not giving Ricky a chance to elaborate any further. Great!

Now that Holly knew about his little problem, soon the entire underworld of San Francisco would know. He”d be the laughing stock of every party, the butt of every joke.

How long would it take her to spread the news - a day, an hour, five minutes? How long until the snickering behind his back started? Why not take out a one page ad in the SF Vampire Chronicle himself to save her the trouble?

Samson Woodford, debonair bachelor vampire, can’t get it up!

END OF EXCERPT

Continue to Excerpt of A Touch of Greek

EXCERPT of A Touch of

Greek:

What would the punishment be this time? A year in Hades for giving it to Zeus” mistress du-jour? Seemed like a fair exchange, Triton thought. It could be worse. He could be bridled from any sexual activities for a decade - which would suck to say the least. Anything, just not that! He”d never survive it. Not sating his sexual urges for a week bordered on excruciating, a decade would be pure torture.

At least in Hades he could screw some desperate souls, and the year would pass by in delicious debauchery. He could deal with the heat and the stench, and surely, Father”s other brother, Hades, wouldn”t make the stay too uncomfortable for him. As long as he kept his hands off Hades” wife. Now there was a beauty, if there ever was one.

Despite his thoughts, Triton kept his head down and his eyes averted, not willing to piss the King of Gods off any further. He cringed convincingly as Zeus lifted his arm and sent another thunderbolt across the blue sky. A sound as loud as a thousand horses” hooves cracked through the white clouds that hung over Olympus. For sure, his uncle gave an impressive show right there on the terrace of his home overlooking the mortal world of Greece.

Better to play the repentant servant to Zeus. There was no way he was getting out of this mess unscathed. Not even his father Poseidon could help him right now - not that Triton wanted to ask the old man for help. All he”d get would be a lecture.