Brams and Varneys
The Erotic Fiction of Ally Mauser #7
Ally Mauser
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Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition
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Vampires are real. It’s true. I remember I saw my first when I was out late with my girlfriend, Gina, the night we decided our lesbian attraction was more than just sexual. We thought we were going to get mugged, walking home from the dike bar in London where we had been dancing, maybe. We thought a mugging was our worst case, but it was far worse than that. Gina’s gone. Her blood was drained from her body by a man we mistook for a mugger. The police didn’t believe me. They even thought I had done something as an elaborate hoax. I had done nothing. There was no evidence I had engaged in some hoax, and my story was consistent. A man snatched her from a shadow and bit into her neck. She was mesmerized, and didn’t fight back. I was mesmerized, too, and watched, horrified, as her skin grew pale. From there, I decided I had to find my own answers. I knew what I had seen. The vampire, when he was done draining my friend of her blood, disappeared into an alleyway, with her blood running down his shirt from his thirsty mouth, where his prominent canines flickered
Did you know the first appearance of vampires in literature was a short story falsely attributed to Lord Byron, written by the brother-in-law of a famous Victorian painter? Polidori was his name. At the time, when Gina was killed, I was staying in England on a scholarship, and the old Polidori residence wasn’t far away. I thought I might find some clue there.
The house had been converted into an Aldi’s on the corner. It still had glimmers of its old ways in the molding and the foundation. I wandered the aisles of the Aldi, thinking about Gina, and how beautiful she was, and how I was going to bring her home to my mother regardless of what anyone thought about two women in love with each other. I ran my hands along the aisles of discount pasta and soup and imagined that this would make an excellent cover for something nefarious. There is another London that is not like the London I had known riding the double-decker bus to school and back to Gina’s flat. It is underground, where the old Pubs and sewerlines run.