Morbidly Yours
Sitting on the subway, I tried to ignore the man who was currently doing his best to get me to smile. I’d graced him with the barest of grins once and was promptly informed that he wanted a true smile instead of a growl.
In no way or on any worldly realm does that work for me. I’ve heard it my entire life…what’s wrong? Show me that smile!
As an adult, I get to smile at whomever I want—not the other way around. I received a nudge from someone beside me before a low blend of accents tickled my ear, “You’re a vampire…yes?”
That made me laugh because there are people who truly believe they are vampires within the Toronto subways. To be entirely truthful, I have slight fangs which appear vampiric but I don’t drink blood. I glanced over at a young girl sporting a Goth look that signaled she must want everyone around her to think just that. The man who’d nudged me barked a laugh along with me when the grinning fool’s smile fled as his hand flew to his mouth while his eyes grew as big as silver dollars.
Shrugging at the foolish one, I said, “Are you happy now?”
I wasn’t being rude but he should mind his own damn business. Ms. Goth’s radar flew up as if someone had lit a fire under her ass. I do not like attention. Imagine going through life with twin fangs, being hounded in school, and lured by dentists. Besides that, I was now a writer of horror dwelling under a pen name.
Once upon a time, I would have rocked a ready smile to scare the holy shit out of society. That was before the gross side of humanity had risen up when I’d been chased while someone shrieked, “I’ll help you kill. I just want to be immortal.”
Let’s face it…people are crazy! Some would ask me why I didn’t just get my teeth filed. Because they’re part of my normality. If I don’t want someone to join my level of normality, I don’t smile at them. Period.
I guess that’s why I also don’t venture out much. To my current relief, the man beside me launched into a discussion with Ms. Vampira. Since she thought he was with me, she eagerly fired questions at him about where we were going. He rattled off some location and explained that we were taking the scenic route. In the splendor of her innocent youthfulness, she breathlessly called, “See you there,” as she glided out of the doors.
When the aggravating man which now gave me a weird look exited with her, I hissed, “Thank you. I’m Lydia,” to the man beside me.
To my astonishment, he picked up my hand and kissed the back, “My name is James and I’m starving. How about we get something to eat…yes?”
Normally, I would revert back to my growling self but that accent had my blood pressure doing a bit of craziness. Besides, I owed him one so I nodded, “As long as it’s at my place and not in public.”
He nodded, thankfully not making any jokes about me having a castle or lair. With my pale skin and black hair, I was actually waiting for those jokes. Once we’d exited the crowded subway, I led him back down the block while saying, “You’ve traveled the world. I can tell by your accent. Allow me to be blunt here. You have questions, right?”
A dimple appeared in his cheek before he shrugged, “I didn’t get the impression you liked questions. They annoy you…no?”
“If it’s framed along the lines of why don’t you smile? and what’s wrong with you? or why the sourpuss expression? then you can keep them to yourself. I sense you understand already about those questions so…shoot.”
“Can I take photos of you?”
Not expecting that, I stopped and frowned at him, “Why in the world would you want to take my picture?” There was no way he knew who I really was because I protected that too closely. I even paid someone to have her picture taken to avoid media exposure.
“Because I’m a photographer. That’s what I do besides finding abnormal places to visit.”
I laughed and nodded, “So now you’ve found an abnormal person and you want to explore me?”
His expression signaled that he wouldn’t mind that one bit. A shoulder raised again, “Do you know of any weird places around here where I could shoot?”
“This is Toronto, Canada. If you stay still for more than ten minutes, something weird will happen.”
Twin dimples appeared as he nodded, “I get that impression but, at the moment, I’m hungry. What do you suggest?”
“We could go back and find the little Bride of Dracula.” Enjoying his smooth laugh, I gave into my need for humor and turned my wit on myself, “I know a great steak house. I like them bloody rare. What about you?”
Nodding, he rolled his eyes when I flashed my teeth and joined in, “Just don’t name your steak after me and we have a deal. Medium-rare for me.”
I flipped my cell phone open and asked where he lived. Shaking his head, he informed me that he was traveling through our great lands and hadn’t chosen a hotel yet, “Something’s going on because everywhere I’ve looked was booked solid.”
“Transylvania Inn has an opening if you don’t mind a coffin.”
Barking a laugh, he nodded but his eyebrows flew up when I turned to walk up my driveway as I ordered the dinner. Glancing back at him, I nodded, “It’s off the beaten path but I don’t rule the hounds of hell…yet.”
My house looked like any other but I was wealthy enough to live within a neighborhood where the houses weren’t squashed together. He followed me inside, looking around before he asked, “Can I have bedding within my coffin? Soil tends to leave me itchy.”
Deciding that I liked this fellow, I showed him a full display of my fangs once again. My teeth were perfectly straight between the elongated eyeteeth. They weren’t really that long but just enough to really notice if I laughed or fully smiled.
His tongue darted out to feel his own teeth as he blatantly stared. The little glimpse of the tip of his tongue set my nerves on edge. I was rarely around people for very long, being a writer of horror. My agent accused me of hiding since I used a pen name. I tended to ignore her but only let a few know my real profession.
The ones that knew me well saw the irony and understood. Since my novels sported some wicked artwork and lined the shelves behind him, I motioned toward my dining room and said, “Do you want some wine?”
Using my best Transylvanian accent, it came out Doo yoouu vant some vine?
We both recognized that I butchered it and, as he laughed, nodded before he rolled an accent through the air that made my jaw drop. I have a weakness for accents, especially if done well. His mustache twitched as my throaty laughter hit the air, “Don’t you dare stop talking or I might have to bite you. Where’ve you been and where are you headed?”
As he spoke, I moved around the kitchen while watching his eyes dart to the odd décor I had scattered throughout. I’d incorporated props from previous cover art and, since I didn’t normally entertain, it had never really been an issue. When he asked, “Lydia, why do you have a cauldron?”
I practically purred, “I’m still hoping for a leprechaun to skate down a pretty rainbow so I can drain his blood. That’s where he’ll land.”
The ridiculousness of my words made him pause before a peculiar expression crossed his face, “What am I missing here?”
Ah, shit…he’s onto me!
“Wine…lots of it. Let’s go out onto the patio. There’s a beautiful view that you can shoot.”
His gaze ran from my toes all the way to my black hair before he snapped his fingers, “You…!”
By the look of recognition on his face, my eyes widened. A slow grin appeared on his face before he said, “I shot cover art for a horror writer years ago.”
When he named the book, I gasped and almost dropped the bottle of wine. He was in front of me before I saw him move as he said, “Black veiled beauty who wouldn’t show her face to anyone…that’s you…yes? Yes!”
Scowling at him, I stomped my foot, “Shit!”
The doorbell rang so I thrust the bottle of wine at him, thankful for the distraction. After getting the food, I came back in to find him snapping photos of my view. Slipping onto the patio, I simultaneously decided he would sleep with me tonight as I said, “You cannot tell anyone what you’ve learned. That was the only photo shoot which I’ve participated in.”
Nodding, he turned and asked, “Why are you so reclusive?”
“I like to watch humanity not the other way around.”
“So I can’t shoot any photos of you?”
My eyes narrowed before I shrugged, “I might let you snap me from the waist down. Maybe I’ll bend over a coffin.”
“You really have a coffin?”
I didn’t answer, figuring he’d freak out if he knew I owned three of them. His eyes widened at my nondisclosure of information, “Seriously?”
I shrugged and dug into my steak. After we’d eaten, I gave him a tour but left the prop room door closed. As a joke, I did ask while standing outside it, “Have you ever fucked anyone in a coffin?”
“No! Have you?”
I shook my head, “I always wondered if it was possible though.”
He blew an astonished breath out before laughing. I assured him, “I meant someone living. Don’t worry…all the latches were removed.”
That made him laugh harder as he dragged a hand down his face. Stepping up to him, I said, “You know you want to run your tongue over my fangs.”
I knew by the look on his face that I had him. His head tilted but, before his lips touched mine, he said, “Where do you keep this coffin?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, allowing his tongue to dart out and graze my teeth as his mouth closed over mine. After I pushed the door open, we stumbled into the room. I kept his face in my hands, fearing the horrific images would collapse his arousal. He proved to be curious and immune to the horrific nature within the room.
We hit the floor on a faux plush animal skin rug that had been spattered with red. The ends of my teeth were harmless, rounded so I was sure if I accidentally nipped his tongue that I would pinch verses puncture. Our clothes fell away before I scooted backwards and pointed to the corner. His gaze darted to the three coffins lining the wall.
They were already on the floor so we didn’t have to worry about tipping them over. After a second look, there was no way both of us were going to fit inside one. I draped my nude torso over one and curled my finger, “Hey, James, I hear that orgasm is the little death.”
Rolling his eyes at my morbid humor, he pointed to his hard cock, “This will bring you back to life.”
I whispered back, “I’ll be morbidly enthralled to you, then.”
His mustache twitched before he whispered back, “You already are.” Giggling, I shrieked when he dragged me backwards and speared me on his cock. I don’t know if it was the wine or the atmosphere we were creating but he grinned and curled his hips to bump me deeper inside, “Feel my stake.”
I would have laughed but I was too busy dragging air into my lungs. In my self-imposed exile, I hadn’t had sex in years. Over three years to be exact. To say he was sweeping out cobwebs was an understatement. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest if spiders would have skittered out.
My palms slammed the side of the coffin, bumping it against the wall with every deep thrust. As if he recognized the sheer weirdness of the situation, he pulled me to him and growled in my neck, “We need to take this to your bedroom.”
I was so wrecked that I didn’t care where we took it but, seeing that he wasn’t going to continue there, I breathed, “Two doors down.”
He pulled me up from the floor, directing me to hang on, but we didn’t make it that far. I teased his neck with my tongue and teeth, drawing a deep groan before my back hit the fake plush rug again. The touch of my bizarre teeth must have turned him on because he cursed as he bit my nipple and fucked me even harder.
Dragging fingernails up his back, I thrust my breasts into the air and squeaked his name every time he plunged into me. I’d seen his cock ring and ridges but, to be truthful, hadn’t known what to think about it. Now that I felt the effect, I could fully appreciate the reasoning behind it.
This man had endured a painful procedure not to crow about himself but with added pleasure in mind. Every well-aimed thrust told me that his attention extended beyond the lens of his camera. Like me, he watched humanity and waited for the extraordinary to rear up in order to satisfy something within himself. Nothing else would suffice.
That aspect of his personality was the epitome of sexy, rocking my mind while he sent my body spasming around him. Forgetting myself, I bit his shoulder which granted me a harsh groan as his cock spilled inside me. In the afterglow, he thrust his fingers in my hair and kissed me.
I refused to admit that he’d been the first to break the hiatus of my sexual activity. I was quiet throughout our shower, contemplating if he would keep my secret. As if sensing my inner turmoil, he assured me that no one would know my identity but said, “I only ask that you let me shoot your props…with you hiding amongst them.”
I grinned and gave in just a little, “No head shots.”
Nodding, he said, “Just one to remember you by. Flash those teeth for me.”
Rolling my eyes, I nodded, “For you, James, I’ll even add a little tongue.”
Those dimples appeared as his mustache twitched before he kissed me to seal the deal. He slept with me that night. The next day, I peeked out from the coffin to flash teeth and tongue in a photo just for him. With black hair streaming over the side, I tried to envision his vast world while I’m sure he recognized my need for privacy.
After he’d snapped his photos and handed me a business card with instructions to contact him at my earliest convenience, I settled within my lonely abode and reflected on what had happened. Since we’d done business before that moment, I tended to trust his word. When I received the photos of my eyeteeth and smiling dark eyes, I grinned over the two words floating above his signature: Morbidly Yours…James.
~~ The End ~~
