TASTE FOR BLOOD
Whitby, North Yorkshire, England
“Are you really a vampire?” Ella placed dirty pint glasses into hot water and began cleaning them. There was nothing glamorous about being a bartender, but it was a job in a town that claimed vampires were real.
She posed the question to her co-worker that night. Josh was young with a massive ego due to good looks. Actually, he was hot, which had the make-me, take-me, turn me into a vamp set seeking him out in hopes for a night of wicked sex. She wasn’t one of them, but was curious about his claim to fame.
“Sure am, and well over a thousand years old. Don’t I look fucking great for an old codger?” His flexing arm muscle was hard to miss in the tight t-shirt he wore. He placed a kiss on the bulging bicep while wiggling his eyebrows at her in invitation. She couldn’t hold back her laughter his actions brought bursting from her lips.
“Sexy as sin and ready to claim a pet,” she said while returning cleaned glasses to the rack. She’d dropped the pet reference nonchalantly to see how much he actually knew about vampires and he’d passed right over it.
“So, you’re ready to be my dinner tonight? I have a collar waiting for you to wear. You’ll look fucking hot with it on, and nothing else. It’s leather and full of d-rings. I’ll hook you to the wall and keep you steady for me to fuck and suck dry.” Josh whispered how he wanted to possess her body as he slowly stroked a finger down her exposed neck.
Ella shivered at his touch and turned toward the shout from a delegate for the hen night crowd that had taken up the far corner of the pub. There were about fifteen ladies, aged from eighteen to sixty, wearing matching t-shirts stating they were attending the bride’s Last Stand. One had obviously come forward for another round.
“What can I get you?” She wiped down the bar and waited to hear the order.
“Twelve Bloody shots, two with an added Barbed,” the woman shouted over the noise. The pub was busy, but not so loud that she’d needed to holler. Looking at her closely, Ella guessed she was somewhat sober and the eldest.
“How are the ladies holding up?” she asked while pulling out the required glasses and lining them up across the bar. After filling them with ice cubes, she started measuring two ounces of cranberry vodka and a splash of both orange and lime juice.
“They’re drunk, so these are the last. I can’t handle the modern day hen night. Mine was a couple glasses of wine at our local the night before, not a weekend away spent getting wrecked.” The customer laughed and then helped her put the glasses on a tray.
“I’ll carry the tray, if you wouldn’t mind taking these two so we can keep them separate,” Ella suggested while pouring an ounce of Absinthe in the two glasses she’d set aside. Whoever ordered the two Barbed cocktails was in for a nasty headaches in the morning and, hopefully, nothing else.
The corner was raucously loud, full of talk about sex and the boyfriends, husbands, and a soon-to-be husband they were doing it with. There were plenty of dirty details shared that Ella found hard to believe actually took place. The ladies were probably more vanilla in the bedroom than kinky, which Ella personally preferred.
After handing out the drinks, she started back to the bar when one of the girls chased her down for a private word. She thought the young woman was going to order another round of drinks and tried to think of a way to say no. Except for Grandma, the entire group was a drink beyond over served.
“The bloke behind the counter, is he available? You see, my friend, the bride-to-be, is totally hot for him and, well, you know how it is. She wants a last shag before the ring goes on for good. We heard down in Leeds about a guy in Whitby who has a sexy bite that leaves you weak and a pierced willy that’s totally wicked to ride. That’s fucking hot.”
Oh boy, that was not what she’d expected the other woman to say. It wasn’t going to happen.
“No, sorry, he’s with me,” she confided with a wink and went back to the bar. She picked up glasses as she made her way through the room. Stopping at a few tables, she chatted with the locals she’d befriended during her short time at the pub.
“Would you like another, Sean? Last call is coming up.”
“Thank you, Ella.” It was dark inside the pub and she tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but couldn’t see much. The man was a mystery to her in many ways, which was odd since she could usually read anyone. No, Sean was a slate wall of sorts. Cool, hard and smooth, but everyone had a weak spot and he was hers.
There, she finally admitted it. She wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, finding his weakness, but that would have to happen another night as she already had plans. Smiling, she picked up his empty glass.