Ladies' Choice

[daniel_stacy]

“Another gay bar. Why’s it always gotta be a gay bar?”

Daniel scowled and drank his vodka tonic. He had nothing against gays. Freddie Mercury was gay as a three dollar bill and he was a pimp. The trouble with gay bars was that he couldn’t get laid in one. Not by a woman, anyway. Daniel had heard rumors that vampires stopped caring who they boned, but he supposed the heterosexual hadn’t worn off him yet. Privately, he wondered how many years that took.

A track by Chaka Khan had the dance floor packed. He peered through the haze of dry ice for a certain pale face. He had lost track of her on his drink run. Probably wandered to the bathroom looking for easy pickings, he mused. He followed his nose to a corner that reeked of piss.

“Aha! Found you!” He draped his arm around the redhead and gave her a martini. “You know, you are really overdressed for this dump.”

[Thread: Open to Deanna]

Comments

[deannas]

He was touching her. Didn't she make a rule about this?

"And you're squeezing too hard," the redhead snarled. She accepted the glass in her right hand, and took a sip.

There was a subtle shift under the ruffle of her dress.

"I didn't mean you."

Deanna rolled her shoulder, a hint that now was a good time to retract his arm, if he was really attached to it.

"And you look like shit, Daniel." Another sip of her martini, and a slight shift in posture.

[daniel_stacy]

“Ahh, you don’t mean that.” He kissed her cheek, leaving a damp imprint. He was tempted to stare at the person-shaped lump under her dress, but that would give him a stiffy, so he watched a woman feed quarters into a payphone. Nothing erotic about that. “I’m not wearing any of that Armani bullshit,” he shouted over the music. “Believe it or not, some women like men a little scruffy.” He ran a hand through his messy hair. “Some women like men.” He chuckled. He knew better than to make a move on Deanna. He had tried it and that dog didn’t hunt.

“How long are you planning on staying? I’m starving.” He rubbed his stomach. “Feels like a… like a wrench twisting.” Early in his undead condition, he tried to assuage that gnawing sensation with filler, any kind of human food, and he didn’t care if it tasted like sand. It just didn’t work.

[deannas]

He smelled of aqua velva, ash and beer, the latter more an add-on from the club. But it reminded her that a half-full silver cigarette case resided in her purse. She set her martini on a nearby table, removed the case and took out a cigarette. She waited for Daniel to do the polite thing.

"What's stopping you?" Deanna surveyed the room before them. "Plenty of meat to choose from." Just like a newborn baby, she thought. Needed to be fed and burped every few hours.

"I had an appetizer fifteen minutes ago. I'm thinking Asian for the main course."

A muffled giggle floated through her clothing.

"Honestly, Daniel. You're barely a year old, and yet you think so old school".

[daniel_stacy]

Daniel rummaged through his pockets and came up with a book of matches. He didn’t smoke, but he kept them at the ready for her. He didn’t want another round of bitchy finger-snapping. He cupped a hand around the cigarette and lit it. All right, so she had turned him into a lap dog. Deanna could be a real twat sometimes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was on the rag.

“Maybe it’s a reflection on my mother,” he said. “What was she, at last count? Forty-eight?” He shrugged. He began to scout for dinner over the rim of his drink. He’d have to put the moves on a guy in here. Lure him into the men’s bathroom and try to bite before the guy jumped on his jock.

[deannas]

The redhead blew a ring of smoke over Daniel's head, an ethereal crown of thorns for the self-martyr. "I haven't looked a day over forty-one for the past two hundred years, Junior. I'd say something about respecting your elders, but you'd just make another pithy retort."

Slim fingers tapped the bobbing head beneath her waist. "I've lost the mood. Go clean yourself up."

Deanna smoothed her dress as the girl snuck away, and turned her attention to her progeny. "Should I even ask if you've been keeping out of trouble?"

[daniel_stacy]

“Course I have.” He sniffed and tipped his head, admiring the Asian girl’s ass as she sidled past him and into the bathroom. He had to give it to D. The woman had impeccable taste.

“I did have a close call,” he said, frowning. “I was draining this gutter punk and I started to feel kind of disconnected, so I looked down and the kid had track marks on his arm. Heroin. I didn’t know I had to check arms before I fed. I was messed up for hours.” He finished off his drink and set it on top of the pay phone. “Alright. I admit, I did finish him off.”

[deannas]

"I don't whether or laugh or, well, laugh." She'd caught Daniel checking out the girl as she slipped into the ladies' room. If Deanna hadn't already called dibs, Daniel might have made an awkward play. She couldn't fault him that.

Nor could she really fault him for walking the fine line of drinking from a drug addict. It wasn't as if there was a vampire playbook she could pass along. Check for infectious diseases, don't stay out past your bedtime. Okay, technically there was an instruction manual, and her name was Deanna. It was duty more than all to pass along rules for survival. But then, Daniel wasn't planned.

Or, if she was to be honest, wanted.

What had she called him once? Oh yes, an abortion. But like moss on a rock, he slowly grew on her.

"Imagine how your ancestors -- and yes, if you look at it in the right light, we're all descended from someone -- think about how they avoided the Black Plague. We're tough, but we're not entirely immune."

She retrieved her martini, and chased it down with another puff on her cigarette. "Just don't go chasing that particular demon. It'll fuck you up, and we have enough to deal with."

The redhead leaned in, a whisper in the boy's ear. "I'm hearing rumors that a Slayer may be somewhere in Nevada."

[daniel_stacy]

“The uh,” he scratched behind his ear and tried to remember Deanna’s war stories. She told a lot of them. He guessed that about twenty-five percent were true. “The girls with the stakes and crosses? Where’d you hear that?” Great. The boogey-woman might be alive and well in Las Vegas. But he was dubious. How was it possible to spot one of them and survive to tell about it? And if a vampire had survived, did that mean the Slayer sucked?

[deannas]

"Demon grapevine," she replied. "There's more than just vampires in the world, Daniel. And they're in a Slayer's sights just as much as we are. Not all demons get along, but we have a common enemy."

Deanna sucked down one last bit of carcinogen before butting out her smoke in a nearby ashtray. "I've heard stories, there's up to a dozen working at a time. And the group that runs them don't let them get too long in the tooth. As soon as their reflexes slow..." The redhead moved a finger across her neck with a scritching sound.

"But here's the good news. They usually work alone. Pretty much shoved out of whatever dojo they trained in, and left to their own devices."

[daniel_stacy]

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be on the look-out,” he said. If a slayer had come to Las Vegas, it meant being more careful when he fed. Keep it out of sight and no witnesses. His sire wasn’t cautious, but she’d been on the block a lot longer. He knew because Deanna could kick his ass. Had kicked it, just making a point. Four years on a high school wrestling team hadn’t prepared him for her reflexes. She was a viper and her nails were like Kreuger’s.

It hit him late. “You’re not thinking about looking for her, are you?”

[deannas]

She enjoyed watching him make the connections in his brain. He was a bit slow (to her, at least), but he wasn't completely dim.

"Oh dear boy," she grinned. Deanna could look completely innocent if and when she needed to. This wasn't one of those times. Her expression could cut glass. "You have to stop thinking so old school."

"She's going to come for me."

[daniel_stacy]

He did a double-take. What the…?

It dawned on him that she was looking forward to it. She wanted a slayer on her tail. It validated her claim of being a certified bad ass. Naturally, if things got dicey, he’d be called upon to back his sire up or double as a body shield. He would play cannon fodder to Deanna’s general on the hilltop.

“Great,” he griped.

“Don’t suppose you’d consider keeping a lower profile for us peons.”

[deannas]

"That ruins the fun, Daniel. She needs to follow the breadcrumbs."

She understood the nervousness; Deanna had been a quote-unquote baby vamp once. (Not that she'd admit this. The redhead took great pains to whitewash for the first ten years of unlife, and painted a picture of a woman so ferocious that she slaughtered a small village the same night the redhead crawled out of the dirt.)

(The story was true, just the timing had been changed.)

"I read this story, about seven years ago," she continued. "Science fiction. Or Fantasy. Maybe both. Found the book in a remainder box, small independent shop in Brighton. Can't remember the author's name, never made it big. And to be honest, the plot had a few holes in it. Anyway.

"The first chapter is set in an airport. The tower, baggage, etcetera. Four difference perspectives, okay? Four different narratives, and they all dovetail to a countdown, from ten, to one. And then the author blows up the terminal."

Deanna pushed a lock of her hair over her left earlobe. "Shock and awe, Daniel. It got my attention. And now I need to produce a little shock and awe of my own to get hers."

[daniel_stacy]

“And if she kills m—you?” Daniel asked.

He had no fricking clue what the airport story had to do with it, but he had neither the patience to ask nor the desire to be an ‘extra’ that got blown up while Deanna gleefully clapped her hands on the sidelines like some demented toddler.

He shook off the imagery.

Nah, she wouldn’t do that to me. I’m her progeny. The apple of her eye.

He felt better.

In his short time as the undead, Daniel had learned that there were three basic types of vamps. Type one was dumb as a sack of hammers and lived to feed. Type two (and this was where he placed himself) was content to sit atop the food chain and enjoy the view. Type three existed for the sole purpose of collecting power and reigning destruction.

Deanna was type three.

[deannas]

She caught his slip of the tongue. "Then she's better than me."

Deanna dug out another cigarette, only this time didn't wait for him to light it.

"I guarantee she's better than you. But if you do as I say," there was that smile again, "she won't get her wood anywhere near your heart.

"And if you're a good boy, I may help you put your wood in her."

[daniel_stacy]

Daniel’s brow furrowed.

“That’s kinky,” he said. He smoothed down the wayward hairs on his head. “I don’t know if I’d screw around with a girl who might stake me in the middle of it. How do you keep a hard-on like that?”

He guessed there must be vampires who got off on it. He still liked his girls sweet.

A couple of men filed out of the bathroom and past them. If he had counted right that meant it was empty. Time to grab a bite to eat.

[deannas]

"They're called dildos, and they're a girl's best friend."

[daniel_stacy]

Daniel smirked. “Yeah, right!” His posture straightened up into full-blown peacock position. There were a handful of things he knew he was good at: double-leg takedowns, quoting Rambo First Blood, and having sex topped the list.

(Also: Donkey Kong, not that he would admit it.)

“Unlike you, I don’t need one of those,” he said. “If things get rough, I’ll just picture Olivia Newton John.”

[deannas]

"And unlike you, I know how to use it."

You didn't want to get into a pissing war with Deanna. She could write her name in the snow. With your parts. Blindfolded.

Still, Daniel was less afraid to speak his mind around the redhead. There was hope for him yet.

"Go. Feed. I see the look in your eyes." Deanna scanned the room. Her earlier flirtation sat studiously at the bar, brushing off any and all interested parties. Patiently waiting.

Forty-eight my ass.

[daniel_stacy]

He peeled off the wall and straightened up his clothes. “Time to turn on the charm,” he said. The vampire wished he’d ordered a double earlier or just drank Deanna’s martini as a chaser. He could use a little liquid courage. The last time he approached a dude in one of his sire’s favorite bars, it turned out to be an old teammate from his wrestling team.

‘Stacy, that you, man? Wow, I can’t believe it, I didn’t know. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, buddy.’

He’d be hearing that promise in his nightmares for a long time.

“Later, Mom.”

[deannas]

She's never going to get used to that word.

"Be home by curfew," she chided.

"Son." The last word dripped with contempt. But mixed into that entanglement, was a flicker of kindness for her progeny. It was... unsettling.

She crooked her finger to the Asian girl. Deanna needed a change of scenery. Someplace quiet. And bitey.