Vampire Love Songs #3: Dr. Feelgood

She's cheating on him, and the only reason Seth knows this is because she's giving him a blowjob. In the years they've spent together, he has come to recognise this as one of the myriad, more exotic ways in which Mallory's guilt manifests. He wonders if it's to spite him after the thing with the dancer. He wonders if she even knows about the thing with the dancer.

There are cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. Seth can't seem to look away, and it breaks his... well, concentration isn't quite the word. Mallory looks up at him questioningly. He pulls her up level to him, kisses her on the cheek, and hops off the bed. Before Mallory can figure out what happened, the bathroom door is closed and he's in the shower.

He considers masturbating while in there, but can't muster up the will. Instead he stands under the stream until the water runs cold. By the time he steps out, he has decided to start following Mallory.

She's sleeping when he comes out of the bathroom. As quietly as he can, Seth locates the bottle of vodka, and pours what little remains into a dirty glass, necking it. It barely touches the sides. He knows what would hit the spot – what always does the trick when vodka won't quite take the edge off. Seth could really do with someone to drink. But a glance at his sleeping wife stops him putting his shoes on and going out.

He's stopped going to meetings, because a weekly circle wank was never going be enough to curb these cravings.  Many try to sublimate the urge with something else, but he's already an old acquaintance of just about every vice going. Seth is beginning to think a cure is impossible.  And he's surprised by how little he minds.  Mallory, he knows it bothers Mallory.  The killing.  And when you get down to it, it bothers Seth too - conceptually.  But when it's happening, when it actually matters, he's usually too lost in his own bliss to care.

***

Two nights later, Seth follows Mallory to a building he recognises. It takes him a moment to place it; it is the home of the young man they met, what, two weeks ago? Seth had called him Billy, as a joke, because he had white blonde hair and a pretty punk mouth. Mallory disappears into the apartment building, but Seth follows her no further. Instead he walks to a bar he knows just a few streets away, and does his best to get wasted.

Odd, how much Seth can see while trying so hard not to. The once familiar look of arousal on Mallory's face, and the twin swallows that adorn Billy's young, muscular chest.  The smooth, unspoiled flesh of his buttocks as he flips her over, making her squeal with giddy pleasure beneath him.

Seth knows his wife is sleeping with somebody else.  And now he knows who that somebody is. All that he doesn't know is what he plans to do with this information.

Kill him? The ease with which this thought comes into his mind should worry him. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Which Seth realises it has become, for him. He doesn't know whether it's the alcohol or the rage, but his stomach feels like it is on fire.

Mallory is still gone when he gets back to the hotel. He paces the room, palms itchy, chest tight. He thinks he's going to be sick. Withdrawal. And for what? Seth has long known he's a bad man. He has tried to be better for Mallory, to be the kind of husband she deserved. And where is Saint Mallory now?

He goes through all of his pockets, through the handbag Mallory left on the floor, through every drawer in the night stand until he finds something sharp enough. A small pair of scissors. He presses his thumb against the blade, wincing when the pressure gives way to hot, searing pain. So that's what it feels like, Seth thinks, as he brings the thumb to his lips, hungrily sucking on the small cut. The tightness in his chest loosens slightly. He feels his panicked breathing slow.

He kicks off his shoes and climbs into bed, still sucking his thumb like an insecure child. Only now does everything he had to drink earlier come rushing to his head. The room begins to sway like a cabin on a boat, and Seth finds it helps rock him to sleep.

***

When he wakes up, Mallory is in the bed next to him. He rises without waking her and changes into some clean clothes – or, at the very least, cleaner than the ones he slept in. He deliberately avoids looking at Mallory as he walks around the bed and leaves the room.

It's sunny out – oppressively so. Seth wishes he had a pair of sunglasses to protect his sensitive, hungover eyes. After just a few minutes of walking he can feel the white shirt clinging damply to his back, and his legs sweltering in the black trousers.

He doesn't realise until he is standing outside the door that he hadn't even been sure which flat number he was seeking. Seth doesn't knock, just lets himself in.  The blinds in the living room are almost completely closed; smoke floats in the thin shafts of light that remain.  Billy is lying on sofa, a joint in one hand and an open paperback in the other.  He jumps a little when Seth enters, although he regains his composure far too quickly for Seth's liking.

"Tropic of Cancer?" Seth asks, gesturing to the book.

"It's my aim to get through every book that's ever been banned for lewd content," Billy replies.

"How's that going so far?"

"Not well," Billy sighs and drops the book onto the floorboards.  "I'm shocked by how little it takes to shock some people."

Seth ponders asking him his opinion on Lady Chatterley's Lover, but dismisses the idea as too crasse.  Instead, he says casually:

"You're fucking my wife."

Billy doesn't speak for a moment.  When he does, he surprises Seth.

"I think it would be more accurate to say that she's fucking me."

"Excuse me?"

"The first night we met," Billy says, "You remember?  I brought you back here.  I let you do this," he tilts his head to one side, exposing the healing marks on his neck, "and then later, she came back and we had sex."

He gets up off the sofa, walks over to Seth and offers him the joint.  He takes it.

"I let you take what you wanted," Billy says.  "Both of you."

"But you have feelings for her."  Seth does not like the way Billy keeps looking at him - straight in the eye.

"I don't know.” Billy shrugs. “I think so.  She's..."

"Complicated?"

"Fascinating."

"She has feelings for you," Seth tells him.  "Did you know that?"

Billy doesn't say anything.

"She's my wife."

Billy ignores that comment too, simply saying:

"You're no open book either, are you Seth?"

Seth exhales heavily. He doesn't know why he came here. He passes the joint back to Billy, fully intending to turn and go.  But when their fingers brush together, and Billy's touch lingers for just a second on his lacerated thumb, he knows he won't be leaving this room for quite some time.

“Would you like something to drink?” Billy asks.

~

Vampire Love Songs #2: Happy Hour

"Happy Hour" is a follow up to another short story, "Rehab" - I'd recommend reading that first to get to know the characters a little.

~

Her dress was ruined.  It hadn't cost much, and it was hardly as if she didn't enjoy buying new clothes, but still.  Was it that hard not to get blood everywhere?  Seemed to Mallory that Seth never spilled a drop of vodka, but when it came to the red stuff he became a dribbling child.  She never could stand messy eaters.

"Calm down," she told her reflection.  She knew this was just one of those moments that transpired in a relationship, where every single thing her husband did, and the way that he did it, felt like it was done with the sole purpose of driving her crazy.

"Breathe," she said to herself.  The hot, nauseous sting of irritation, so much worse in its own way than real fury, began to abate.  Mallory tried to think of something positive, and found it when she remembered that at least they hadn't killed this one.  Knowing Seth he probably wouldn't have minded, but she'd stopped before things went that far.  Ever since the pretty redhead, going all the way had bothered Mallory.

"You alright in there, sweetheart?"  Seth's voice through the door almost sounded like it belonged to someone else.

"Fine, baby," she called back, swabbing her dress uselessly with a damp cloth.  "Out in a minute."

By the time she emerged from the en suite, Seth had expertly cleaned and patched up the neck of the tattooed, peroxide-blond young man who had offered himself up to them so willingly, and was now reclined on the king size bed.  He had a pretty face, softer than the anchors and swallows that decorated his lean torso might suggest.  Mallory could see straight through the ink and piercings; anyone with a place this nice, with a bathroom that big, wasn't an outsider.  He was a daddy's boy.  That biker jacket slung over the bottom of the bed probably contained an iPhone and the keys to an Audi.

"Ready to go?"  Seth asked.  Mallory nodded.  She wanted out of this dress.  The pale sheets on the bed were spotted red.

"Try salt water," she told the boy.

"Bye, Billy," Seth called out from the doorway.

"Bye," the boy said.  "Wait, what?  My name's..."

"Anybody who tries so hard to look like that," Mallory said, indicating his lean physique and bleached hair, "has earned the right to be called Billy."

All that got her was a blank look.  God bless him; he was probably oblivious to who Billy Idol actually was.

"Get some rest," she suggested, fishing around in her handbag.  "And take a few of these."  She tossed him the little bottle of iron supplements she bought a few weeks ago for just these occasions.

"You're so thoughtful," Seth took her hand in his as they made their way down the stairwell.  "How about we go get drunk then fuck 'til dawn?"

"Drinks are on you," was her answer.

***

It was going to be one of those nights.   She knew it straight away.  The awful kind, where it didn't matter how much she had to drink, she was never going to be able to relax.  Seth had no such problem, of course.  He rarely did.  He sank vodkas and caressed her thigh while she couldn't stop thinking about the red marks on her dress and the young man they'd shared like a platter of nachos.

"Honey," she whispered in his ear, then repeating in a louder voice when it became clear he couldn't hear a word: "I'm really tired.  Why don't you have a couple more drinks and I'll see you at home?"

He nodded, and kissed her goodnight. But Mallory had no intention of going home.

She retraced her steps with minimum effort, arriving back at the apartment only a few hours after she and Seth left together. After knocking on the door, she very nearly turned and left. But she didn't. She waited, feeling rather conspicuous and out of place; a woman in a soiled dress, obstructing an otherwise perfectly respectable hallway. Then Billy answered the door.

“You're back,” he said, and she could imagine that for a moment he feared she'd returned to finish him off.

“I'm back,” she said, and stepped forward. She could see him suppress a flinch, but he didn't move. She reached out slowly to brush his bottom lip with her thumb, something Seth had done earlier that evening, right before sinking his teeth into the youth's throat. He had drank, and drank, and the young had man just let him. Wincing, and occasionally crying out in pain, but not resisting.

“What...” Billy said, in the here and now, “what do you want?”

Mallory lowered her hand and placed that same thumb just between his jeans and his belt buckle. When she leant forward to kiss him, he didn't flinch at all. He wasn't afraid of her any more. She wondered if he could taste his own blood on her as their tongues tentatively met.

She guided him to the bed, just like she and Seth had done earlier, and pushed him down. He fumbled with his belt while she unfastened her dress. His jeans barely made it past his knees before she was on top of him; the skirt of her dress rode up around her waist while the upper half slid down, revealing her pale breasts.

It only lasted a couple of minutes. While Mallory kept her eyes fixed on Billy's tattoos, he stared openly up at her. When he came, she covered his mouth with her own to halt the moans. Then she stood up.

"You're all bloody," he said after she had pulled the dress back up over her shoulders.  He was right; the stains from earlier had already faded to the colour of rust, and something milky had seeped into the hem.  Warm just a moment ago, it grew cold against her leg.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I am.”

Mallory knew she'd have to get rid of the dress now. She should have known better than to wear white.

~

Vampire Love Songs #1: Rehab

"My name's Seth," he begins, the same three words week on week. “And I'm an addict.”

"Hi Seth," the group echoes around him. Like a choir. A cult.

“It's been eight months since I slipped,” he continues. “And it's not been easy. Especially when the temptation to give in is just about everywhere you look.”

A few heads nod appreciatively; it's the same for all of them. Seth knows that if most of them didn't have the group to come to each week, they'd not stand a chance. Strength isn't stopping, of course. It's not starting again. That particular pearl of wisdom, which he spied somewhere on one of the many posters adorning the meeting room, makes him wish he had a cigarette.

“All I know,” he says, keen to wrap up his turn, “is that I wouldn't have lasted these eight months without my wife. She's kept me strong.”

“We keep each other strong,” Mallory tells the group from her seat next to him. He reaches out and she squeezes his hand. He sits down, deflating as the group's attention shifts to someone else.

When it is over, just as Seth and Mallory are about to leave, a skinny youth approaches them.

“Tony, isn't it?” Mallory asks, shaking his hand.

“Yeah,” he nods, and Seth no longer sees a man; he sees a scarecrow. “I just wanted to say... You guys, what you're achieving together? It's inspiring.”

Seth smiles at him, although he really just feels like he's baring his teeth. Mallory is nice enough for both of them. Story of their marriage. She tells Tony that he can find it in himself to be strong too – she knows he can do it. Listening to her words, however empty they might be, makes Seth love her even more.

“I need a drink,” he whispers in her ear as they leave the building.

“You're not fucking kidding,” she answers, and within minutes they are in the nearest bar. It's dark, run down, and more than a little seedy. In other words, perfect.

Mallory orders vodka on the rocks for both of them. They clink their glasses together, no need to toast out loud, and knock them back. Seth orders another round, and tells the barman to get the pretty redhead at the end of the bar whatever she wants too.

The redhead saunters towards them, more than a little tipsy on her high heels, and thanks them both for her scotch and soda with an overly familiar hug each.

“You're more than welcome,” Seth says. “We're celebrating.”

“Fabulous! What are you celebrating?”

“Eight months sober,” Mallory grins, crunching on ice. The girl eyes their drinks and gives them a questioning look.

“Alcohol was never our drug of choice,” Seth says by way of explanation. The redhead nods as if to say she understands completely. Which, of course, she doesn't.

“I could never do that twelve step stuff,” she says, swigging her scotch. “No self control.” That last part is followed by a calculated lick of the lips.

“To many,” Seth says, “total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.”

“Augustine,” she replies promptly.

“I'm impressed,” Seth says. He can practically hear Mallory rolling her eyes next to him. They all know where this is going.

“I love Augustine,” the girl drawls. “Now there's a saint for sinners.”

“Lord, make me chaste,” Mallory chimes in. “... But not yet.” They all laugh. Then Seth and Mallory invite the charming girl with the coppery hair back to their hotel room.

***

Her name, it turns out, is Vanessa. She smells like a Rose and tastes like a Penny. When Seth sinks his teeth into her neck, it hits the spot like not even ice cold vodka could. He revels in Mallory's muffled grunts of pleasure from where she dines at the femoral artery. Every couple of seconds, a gargled protest tries to make its way from Vanessa's lips. Then she's just a limp thing in their arms, muted and pale.

“Such a pity,” Mallory says, rising from between the girl's legs, short on breath. “She was so beautiful.”

“Addiction is an illness,” Seth says as calmly as he can through the fog of elation, wiping the last of Vanessa's lifeblood from his chin. “We mustn't be too hard on ourselves.”

Mallory reaches into her pocket, then puts her hand out. Seth takes it, and she drops something into his palm. To somebody who didn't know any better, it might look like a gambling chip. Seth runs his thumb over the letters embossed onto the plastic surface.

Vampires Anonymous: 8 Months Dry

“We'll be better tomorrow,” he tells her. “I promise.”

~