So, Aaron told him. He told them all. And as he spoke, his voice grew stronger and he sat a little straighter. And as he spoke, his teeth showed more and more, flashing brilliantly in the muted lights of the courtroom...

  He didn’t want Annie to get up off his lap. He liked her just where she was, and so he told her, yes, he would suck from her neck. He would, in fact, drink her blood. She squealed and clapped and gave him a kiss so big that it had literally taken his breath away. And as he was left gasping for air, she lowered herself back down upon him, back down into his lap, and Aaron thought he had died and gone to heaven.

  “Were you a virgin up to this point, Aaron?”

  “Yes.”

  The attorney nodded. “Tell us what happened next.”

  So Aaron did. With Annie on his lap, rocking slowly and rhythmically, he had pulled aside her pitch-black hair, exposing the smooth sweep of her delicate neck, a neck that was now slick with sweat. Immediately, he found himself enchanted by the hypnotic throb of her carotid artery. Never before had he drank from another. Never before had he tasted another’s blood.

  This would be another first in a night of firsts, and his excitement was nearly overwhelming. Annie must have sensed his excitement, must have felt it deep inside her, for she gasped and moaned and rode him even harder.

  The throbbing in her neck picked up in tempo. Her slick skin reflected some of the distant ambient street lights. The rapid pulsing in her neck glinted like a strobe light. Like a beacon. Beckoning him...

  He lowered his mouth to that smooth, sweeping, gleaming neck, pulling back his lips and fully exposing his God-given fangs. Saliva formed under his tongue, threatening to spill out of his mouth, and as he drew closer to her neck, the beating vein disappeared from view and so he went solely on feel. On instinct.

  First the tips of his teeth brushed her skin lightly. At the slight sensation, Annie trembled almost violently. Aaron could feel her excitement, literally washing over him.

  “Do it,” she whispered hoarsely in his ear. “Now.”

  He positioned his teeth over the pulsating vein and slowly applied pressure. Annie stiffened briefly, but continued thrusting against him. He applied more pressure. Now she gasped, paused briefly, but picked up speed again. He applied further pressure, biting hard into her soft neck, his own saliva spilling out and dribbling down her throat.

  She ground her hips against his own. He heard her breathing through clenched teeth. She was in pain. And loving it.

  Finally, his teeth punched through, piercing her flesh and artery. Annie cried out. Blood filled his mouth, gushing in as if he had wrapped his mouth around a garden hose.

  Annie didn’t stop riding him; indeed, she heaved herself against him, faster and harder than ever. It was all he could do to keep her from bucking free, to keep his teeth from inadvertently tearing open her neck.

  Aaron could barely keep up with the flow of blood. He swallowed great quantities of it, mouthful after sweet mouthful. Like a hungry babe drinking from his mother’s teat. The warmth of her precious hemoglobin spread through him, coating his esophagus, his stomach. His lips. And now, some of it began to spill free. Down her neck, down over her bare shoulders and breasts.

  And still she continued to thrust. Her powerful movements rocked him, but not enough for him to lose his grip on her neck. Oh no. Like a pit bull, he held firm.

  And still he drank.

  Her blood was sweet and salty and coppery. It tasted far different than his own. He hadn’t expected that. A pleasant surprise.

  God, she tasted so damned good. So perfect.

  Aaron couldn’t imagine a more intimate encounter: two people connected in so many ways. His heart soared. His love for Annie soared. He loved her for letting him drink from her. He loved her for accepting him for who he was. He loved her in so many ways...

  He sat back now in the witness chair, words escaping him. Tears flooded his eyes. He didn’t bother to control them. He didn’t care what others thought of him. Not anymore.

  Aaron’s attorney was standing before the witness box, hands folded loosely in front of him, handsome face somber and bone-pale.

  “But you went too far, didn’t you, Aaron?” asked his attorney.

  Aaron nodded. And he kept on nodding...

  He had known he had to stop sucking her. He had never consumed this much blood before. Too much. And so much of it was spilling out now, flowing down her back and chest, puddling in his lap, soaking into his car seat.

  But he couldn’t stop.

  Making love to her felt so good, so amazingly perfect—especially while simultaneously drinking her down—

  That’s when she started hitting him, beating his shoulders and back, scratching him, clawing him, begging him to stop. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Not now. He was so close...

  He felt his own blood streaming down his back, pouring from the deep furrows dug from her black nails. And still he sucked. And still he drank. She had been fighting hard, but now, she was losing her strength, her resistance weakening.

  She fought him to the very end, beating weakly against his back, begging him to stop. But no amount of clawing or screaming or begging would stop him now. And now, he was aware of her heartbeat growing fainter and fainter. Less and less blood was pumping into his mouth. His stomach was painfully full.

  She’s dying, he thought. You have to stop.

  But he didn’t. Couldn’t. He was so close to climaxing. So tantalizingly close...

  Finally, she quit hitting his back, her hands falling limply to her side, and when her blood ceased to pump into his mouth, Aaron Parker the American Vampire climaxed mightily, powerfully, exploding into her.

  He was certain she had died the instant he came.

  His words hung in the courtroom, echoing faintly, like the sound of Annie’s heartbeat just minutes before she had passed. Another woman was holding Annie’s mother tightly, who now sobbed soundlessly into her shoulder.

  The attorney crossed his arms in front of his chest and studied the young man in front of him. “You didn’t mean to kill her, did you, Aaron?”

  “No.”

  “You loved her, didn’t you?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “And do you miss her?”

  “Every minute,” said Aaron. “Of every day.”

  “Aaron, do you believe you are a vampire?”

  Aaron didn’t move. Not at first. But then the left corner of his lip curled up, revealing a small section of the mammoth tusk that hung from his upper jaw. The young man nodded, and kept on nodding.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Very much so.”

  ***

  Aaron Parker was sentenced to life in a high-security mental institution. Having saved the young man’s life, the attorney had done his job and was pleased, although he would forever be known as that vampire’s attorney, something he would later regret.

  A month after sentencing, a sedated Aaron Parker was hauled into the asylum’s dental office, a creepy room located in the far corner of its vast basement. The single chair was commonly known as the “torture chair” by the asylum’s residents. After all, any patient with a tendency of biting the staff was subjected to the removal of all of his or her teeth.

  And Aaron had a hell of a tendency to bite.

  After an hour of strenuous work, an exhausted dentist held up two extraordinarily long canines, both of which would later be purchased by a popular occult museum in Hollywood, where they were proudly displayed in a polyurethane case near the bones of the Elephant Man.

  A month after the removal of Aaron’s canine teeth, a guard at the asylum was found dead at his desk, his neck having been thoroughly chewed through, nearly decapitating the man. There was surprisingly little blood found at the scene.

  Seven months later, the occult museum was robbed, too, its owner killed on site in a similar fashion. The only items stolen were the vampire’s two fangs.

  The whereabouts of Aaron Parker, aka the American Vampire, aka Fang, are unknown to this day...

  The End

  Return to the Table of Contents

  VAMPIRE ALLEY

  (A Samantha Moon Poem)

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  Vampire Alley

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2016 by J.R. Rain

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  To Eve Paludan. Such an awesome friend.

  Vampire Alley

  1.

  The boy hears the cry

  That turns to gasps, then sobs.

  He turns a corner and sees

  What he cannot unsee:

  A man hunched

  Over something or someone.

  A woman is lying in something dark,

  No, something crimson—

  A pool of blood, the boy is sure,

  As sure as he’s ever been.

  He can smell the coppery smell,

  Strong enough to gag him—

  A smell pumping from a deep, dark

  bloody gash.

  2.

  She kicks once, then twice,

  And raises a hand.

  She points a crooked finger

  At the boy who stands

  Watching in horror and wonder,

  A boy who’s sure he’s dreaming,

  Never aware that yet another

  Rises behind him.

  Yes, the boy has heard of vampires

  And werewolves and ghouls and ghosts,

  But never did he believe

  That monsters were real.

  Not in his city, and not in his world

  And certainly, not here and now.

  But he is certain, oh, yes, he is certain,

  That the man is drinking deeply

  From the woman’s neck.

  And still, he drinks and drinks.

  3.

  Now, the boy hears nothing,

  Neither cry, nor whimper. Nor coming footsteps.

  Before his eyes, the woman dies.

  Perhaps now, he thinks, it is time

  To awaken from this nightmare,

  Because now, he sees

  The long shadow rising,

  And in its place, a pale man

  With blood on his lips,

  A man who smiles far too big.

  Yes, the boy thinks,

  I would like to awaken about right now.

  But the boy knows, in his heart of hearts,

  And with sickening dread,

  That never has he been

  So awake and so afraid.

  4.

  Breath chills his neck,

  And a heavy hand, too.

  Muffled screams die.

  No moving, no resisting, no fighting.

  Never has he felt

  Such strength and such fear,

  Stronger than his father,

  Maybe two or three fathers or more.

  Safe and asleep, he should have been,

  But the siren song of freedom

  Of exploration, of wandering,

  Of losing himself into the night

  Drew him from his bed,

  And through the window.

  He’d done it before, more than twice,

  escaping into the night.

  As cold lips touch his neck,

  The scent of blood and something else—

  Something rotten and rancid and not very right—

  Touches his nose and brain.

  He knows this will be his last escape

  Into this not very good night.

  5.

  Monsters are real, he knows that now.

  Too real and too hungry.

  But fight, he has, and stomp, he does—

  Down hard on a boot.

  But the thing behind him neither wavers

  Nor releases its stranglehold.

  Lips on neck, then teeth, then, blood flows—

  Oh, his neck!

  A dagger, a cut, a bite!

  And pain and more pain.

  Down to a knee, then two,

  Down to the grime and brick,

  The first of the beasts

  Lifts his ghoulish face.

  Crimson drips from chin and lips,

  Spilling over his soiled shirt.

  The monster smiles and steps

  Over the woman.

  Two ghouls, two vampires,

  One pumping heart.

  6.

  The pain is not so great, thinks the boy,

  But the fear, oh, the fear is something else.

  These men leer with their terrible white faces

  And wine-red lips.

  The boy thinks of his mom, his fish,

  His teachers, his friends, and a girl—

  One special girl he never did understand,

  And now, never would.

  He thinks he will miss her

  Most of all, oh, yes.

  And now, the second animal

  Descends upon the boy.

  And drinks and drinks

  And swallows and moans.

  Terrible sounds, but soon, it will

  Be over, or so thinks the boy.

  He hears another voice, a loud voice,

  A woman’s voice, no less.

  7.

  Release, a rush of air,

  And now bleeding on his side

  He watches a smaller shape

  Throw a bigger shape

  Into the alley wall.

  The smaller shape is fast,

  But so are the monsters

  Who soon circle her like vultures.

  All this, the boy watches

  From the broken floor.

  The smaller shape punches

  Faster than he can see

  Or understand or begin to know

  What is happening.

  Although smaller, she is faster,

  And seemingly, stronger.

  Certainly, she is clever

  And her fists are true.

  She sends the two men, the two ghouls,

  hurtling away and out of sight.

  8.

  They are gone, he thinks,

  But I am hurt, and maybe dying.

  Blood pours free

  Into the alley’s cracks and fissures

  As the small figure

  Swims into view.

  She is dark-haired and pretty and small like him

  With a gash on her lip,

  A gash that heals

  Before his very eyes.

  Maybe I am dreaming,

  He thinks, dreaming, after all.

  Eyes look into his

  And maybe into his heart and mind.

  Now, with a small, sad smile,

  She tells him everything is

  Going to be okay.

  Ah, but he sees it in her eyes,

  That even she doesn’t believe

  Her soft words,

  This woman who fought off

  His two monsters.

  9.

  “Will I die?” he manages to ask.

  Or perhaps, he thinks.

  Cold hands take hold of his.

  “No,” says she, “not now, nor ever.”

  But understand, he doesn’t.

  As a slow burn takes hold

  Of mind and heart,

  “It hurts,” he says through clenched teeth.

  And what next transpires,

  He is not prepared for

  As she bites down on her wrist

  And draws a splash of blood.

  Gasping, he watches

  As the bloody wrist hovers over

  His face and mouth;

  Out drip the first drops,

  The first sweet drops,

  The pure, life-giving drops.

  10.

  The boy laps, then sucks,

  Then drinks hungrily.

  It is later when

  She pulls her wrist free.

  But the boy is not done, not by a mile,

  Oh, no, never more.

  “You will not die, not now, nor ever,”

  So says the woman with the black, flowing hair.

  “I will not die,” says the still-ravenous boy.

  “Not now, nor ever, not ever more.”

  The End

  Return to the Table of Contents

  SAMANTHA MOON GUEST BLOG

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2014 by J.R. Rain

  All rights reserved.