Scott lay on his back, staring at the floor joists overhead, his mind reeling and his body tingling. He had just had the best sex of his life—and unlife too, for that matter.
His ex-wife, Maggie, had grown up in a strictly religious home. As an adult, she didn’t often go to church, but she still had a streak of Puritanism bred into her that she just couldn’t escape. She refused to dress up—even in lingerie. She refused to have sex with the lights on. She refused to watch porn. She refused to use sex toys. She refused anything that wasn’t the missionary position. She had also refused to have sex before marriage.
That had been the most unfortunate bit, because if Scott had known her sexual predilections (or lack thereof) before marriage, there wouldn’t have been a marriage. But having wedded the Queen of the Amish (and that probably wasn’t terribly fair to Amish people), he had been committed to seeing his marriage through until death did they part.
Of course, he had assumed he would actually be dead when he died. His straight-laced wife had been unable to deal with his transformation, and while he had been at work—getting the pink slip—she had been getting divorce papers. He had come home to find a sheriff’s deputy waiting in the driveway to serve him.
As cause for the divorce, Maggie had cited, “husband is undead and drinks blood.” Incidentally, she said the same thing when she asked the judge for sole custody with no visitation rights. The judge—a bigoted old bastard (in Scott’s humble opinion)—had sided with Maggie and had given her everything. Scott had only managed to reclaim some of his clothes because he found them bagged up and sitting on the curb with the trash one evening.
She even kept the dog. His dog. His goddamned dog.
Scott hadn’t realized it, but since he had transformed, he really had been living an undead life. Although he had applied himself to his law studies and tried to start his life over, he stopped socializing. He had no friends anymore and his family banned him from all social gatherings “for the sake of the children.” He hadn’t seen or talked to his daughter in two years. He had been an empty shell of a man.
Then he had sex. Wild, vampire sex. And suddenly the world was a very different place.
The night had started innocently enough. He and Josie had closed the office at midnight for supper. She heated up a frozen lasagna, and he poured himself a glass of hot blood from his personal coffee pot, then they sat down together at the table in the little kitchen.
Scott took a sip of blood and made a face. “Urgh.”
Josie looked up from her lasagna. “Does it disgust you to drink blood?”
“No, actually, it tastes good to me—except for this stuff.”
“Why’s it bad? Not your type?” she asked with a smile.
“No, all blood types actually taste the same. But not all people taste the same. Whoever they milked was a smoker. A heavy smoker. I can taste the nicotine. Plus, the dairy has to put an additive in it to keep it from congealing, and that doesn’t taste very good either. I suppose there’s no help for that, but I do wish they would screen the smokers. I’d pay extra for the blood of someone who didn’t smoke.”
Josie looked down at the table. “Have you ever drank straight from the source, as it were?”
“I have a few times. And I’ve regretted it.”
She looked up at him again. “Why?”
“Because it made me realize how awful this store-bought stuff is,” he said with a slight smile. “Blood straight from a person is far superior.”
She looked him directly in the eyes. “I’ve always wanted to be bitten by a vampire.”
The next thing Scott knew, they were naked on his bed and he was biting her while they had sex. His orgasm had been so intense, he thought he might have lost consciousness for several seconds. Given Josie’s repeated praise of God Almighty, he was pretty sure it had been as good for her as it had been for him.
As he lay there afterwards, thinking, he felt he now knew the reason why Josie had agreed to accept the low salary he had offered her, and why she had stayed on, despite the obvious hazard. …Although he felt especially guilty about her wages now. He wished he had enough money to give her the sort of performance bonus she most assuredly deserved.
Josie was lying beside him, also staring up at the floor joists. “Am I a necrophiliac now?” she asked, suddenly breaking the silence.
Scott laughed. “I would have to say no,” he replied. “One, I’m not dead; I’m undead. If I was dead, my ex-wife would have gotten everything and I would have gotten a burial. Instead, my ex-wife got everything and I got a divorce.
“Secondly, I don’t think a woman can be a necrophiliac, seeing how it’s impossible for her to have sex with a male corpse.”
Josie rolled onto her side and looked at him. “You do know corpses can have erections, don’t you?”
He looked at her in disbelief. “What?”
“It’s true. Not all of them do, but it can occur as a result of rigor mortis.”
“How on earth do you know that? Why do you know that?”
She laughed a little. “My dad’s a heart surgeon, so he’s seen some stiffs in his time. In more ways than one. ”
Scott burst out laughing, then he shook his head. “Josie, this is the most bizarre pillow talk I’ve ever had.”
“Have you had a lot of pillow talk since you became a vampire?”
“No, none,” he admitted.
“Well, there may be a connection there, you know. You have to admit, having sex with a vampire—or as a vampire—is a pretty bizarre thing in and of itself.”
“This is true,” he conceded.
She glanced at the clock sitting on top of the TV. “Break time’s over,” she declared, before rolling over and getting to her feet.
“I’m the boss,” Scott contradicted. “I say when break’s over.”
She began to get dressed. “Excuse me? I’m the secretary, and I’m the boss of your time. And I say break is over now because I have a one o’clock appointment scheduled for you.”
Scott sighed, then got out of bed too. “Alright.”
Josie quickly slipped back into her dress, then went to check her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. She ran her fingers through her chestnut hair, restoring it to some level of respectability, then she leaned closer to the mirror, carefully examining the red puncture wounds in her neck.
“I think I’m going to have to invest in a lot more scarves,” she said.
Scott grimaced. “Yeah, that doesn’t look too professional, does it?”
“Well, your one o’clock is a vampire, so he’ll probably find it amusing. But while you have him in your office, I think I’ll run home and get a scarf. Your last appointment this morning will be humans.”
“That’s fine,” he said.
Scott thought it a little surreal to be dressed, once again, in his respectable navy blue suit and discussing the mundane affairs of a law office with a likewise demur and respectable Josie, when less than thirty minutes before she had her legs wrapped around him, begging him to bite her.
But, he thought to himself, as he followed her up the stairs, it’s not like this situation hasn’t been played out in executive offices for decades. Except, maybe, minus the blood.
Read the entire series–The Bloodsuckers: Vampire Lawyers of Middle Tennessee