Am I Awake?

Dear reader,

A couple of warnings ahead of this submission. Firstly, like much of my writing, it is quite heavy on sexy biting and vampires. If that is your thing then great, but if not then it might feel a bit stilted. Secondly, this one is quite long, 25k words and so hence definitely into novella territory. It is not a quickie and it will take a bit of investment to get into. If you are not sure then I suggest have a look at my 'October River Walk' story to get a flavour of where we are going. Thirdly, hopefully as expected with stories submitted in the horror section, it is erm.. quite horrific in places.

You have been warned. Enjoy!

Copyright jon.martin22 2022, all rights reserved.

(1) Tuesday, New York City.

Tuesday the ninth of October was a really weird day for me. Three quite significant things happened. Steph left me, seemingly for good this time. Her ring and her key dropped on the floor by the kitchen counter. I got fired, well, I got told that the process of redundancy consultation had started which is sort of the modern equivalent. Thirdly, Mum called to tell me that Uncle Kelvin had died.

I sat at my desk in silence as I put the phone down. My eyes resting on but not reading the overly polite email invitation at the top of my inbox that spelt the end of that part of my career. I thought about the last time I had seen Kelvin. It had been a long hot hazy summer day and the two of us had sailed Kelvin's boat over to Falmouth for lunch. Lunch at the club had rolled into a second bottle of wine and then loaded coffees. We accidentally left all the groceries that we had bought for the next day on the quay side in their shopping bag as we pushed off. We only realised halfway back to the house when Kelvin went down below to hunt out a few beers. By then the light was fading and it was too late to turn around. Eventually we ended up taking a taxi down to the single crummy diner in town and grabbing late night burgers and beers. It had been the perfect Kelvin day, haphazard, drunken and a lot of fun.

It took me a few passes to grasp the email from HR. In essence I was relieved immediately of any duties. The only task remaining for me being to turn up to an interview the week after next. Nobody actually came over to talk to me so it took a little while for the penny to drop and for me to stand up and gather my things. I habitually locked my drawer but then doubled back to peel the key off the ring and put it back in the hole as I left my desk for the last time.

It was an unfamiliar feeling to be back out on the street so soon after completing my own work commute. I gazed up the glass-domed office high-rise that had been my work-home for most of the last decade. The morning air was still fresh, the tail end of the rush hour commuters skipping their last few steps in to work. I looked up between the sky scrapers, blinking from the light. I thrust my hands into the silk lined pockets of my work pants and considered whether to go to the usual coffee shop just down the street or to walk a bit further the other way. I took a big breath and stopped to let the moment pass as I did.

I took the hike all the way up to the bottom end of the Bowery and was glad that I did. I enjoyed my coffee in a little shop full of stained wood and hip tourists. It was a welcome change from the the usual clean white formica business oriented ones. As I sat staring out into nothing on the street outside, I went through my phone messages. I ignored a few from mum telling me to call her since we had only just spoken however one did require some attention. It was from a lawyer in Boston, mentioning Uncle Kelvin and asking for a call back.

Over a coffee beautifully decorated with foamed milk and a crunchy pastry, I called the office of the man who had been Uncle Kelvin's lawyer. After a brief exchange with a bubbly assistant, I was put through to the kindly warm sounding voice of Callum Murphy. Callum was chatty and relaxed, it was more like talking to an old friend of Kelvin's than the efficient business exchange I had expected from a lawyer. It turned out that he had known Kelvin reasonably well from a professional stand point. Callum had worked with Kelvin for a long time, back when he had set up and then sold his company and now finally he was acting to administer his estate. Despite a depth of pleasantries, Callum was not going to give anything away over the phone more than the notice that as a named party, I should be present at the reading of the will which was to take place either the following week or the week after. He delivered the welcome news that the estate would cover all of my costs including the air fare, the hotel and even food. I agreed to have a look at my schedule and get back to him.

I ended the call and pulled up my calendar for the next few weeks. At first glance I was booked back to back but as I removed the now defunct work-related layer the page cleared. It reminded me of the truth that in-fact I now had no concrete plans for the whole of the next few weeks or indeed anything at all in the future whatsoever. A brief interaction over email with the bubbly legal assistant ended with me receiving a flight and a hotel booking for the following Monday and an appointment to see Callum in person. I looked up the hotel into which I had been booked and got a jolt of excitement, it was a far more fancy joint than I would ever have paid for myself.

As I downed my coffee, I called mum to tell her what was going on. Despite the sadness in her voice, I could hear her excitement at my summoning to Boston. She wanted to hazard a guess at what Kelvin might have left me in his will. Her excited guess was that it might be his boat. In truth, he had sailed a lot alone but I was probably the only member of the family who had ever gone out with him. After my dad had died, and Kelvin aside, I was the only seagoing member of my family. I have to admit, however, that despite the excitement, the prospect of taking on Kelvin's beautiful wooden-decked yacht as the September storms rolled in did give me a little feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. It was far too fancy a boat for me to take on so one way or another it would have to be sold. That is. If indeed I had inherited it. Which probably I hadn't.

What was more likely I suspected was that Kelvin had left instruction for me to do a clean-up job before the rest of the family came in to town.

Aside from the common bond over sailing, Kelvin had also shared a few of his other obsessions with me during my visits. In fact, the primary reason that none of the rest of the family had visited Kelvin for nigh-on a decade were exactly his other obsessions. After as Kelvin himself had described it, 'getting lucky', when he had sold his one man built tech company for more money than he had ever imagined, Kelvin then took up various new hobbies. These interests mostly involved self-experimentation with illicit drugs for which he would travel to procure as well as a fascination with darker ideas, the occult, histories of magic and alternative beliefs. Uncle Kelvin saw himself as a true agnostic scientist, ready to experiment using his own body and a one-man mission to find the truth of nature. As an external observer, I thought that he seemed more like someone searching for a new anti-religion. Some set of rules that would illuminate themselves to the lucky discoverer cum follower.

Either way, it meant that Uncle Kelvin's house was jam packed with various substances and unusual artefacts that had returned with him from his travels. I had a horrible feeling that I was about to be asked to go and clean up after him, hopefully avoiding the DEA as I did so.

Almost as an afterthought, as I ended the call with mum, I asked her what Kelvin had died of. Apparently a heart attack she replied. We both sat in silence for a few moments not saying but thinking the same thing;- that perhaps he had just put his body through too much or perhaps it was a nice way of saying overdose to a grieving family. Either way I didn't want to chase that one down, it was a dog to let lie.

—————

(2) Monday, Boston.

The Monday morning flight up to Boston was on time and blissfully uneventful. I was travelling light with just my overnight backpack so rather than check into the hotel and unload, I headed straight downtown in search of a lunch time bowl of chowder. I remembered an old seafood diner on Dartmouth that I had waited in line for what had seemed like hours years ago when I was visiting friends at school in Boston. Happily, she was still there, looking a bit faded but open for lunch nonetheless. Late Monday morning at the start of the lunch sitting turned out to be a great time to turn up and I had the pick of the tables. I picked a window table and was soon scoffing a bowl of chowder while watching slightly chilly tourists stride past, the odd one stopping to read the lunch menu. I unwrapped a new notebook that I had picked up at the airport, ready to make notes from whatever came out of the afternoon meeting with Callum.

I overindulged in the bottomless chowder and, even better, the bottomless coffee and the time got away from me a little bit. What should have been a leisurely lunch and then a Blue-bike ride over to Callum's office turned into a rush for the cheque and then a taxi. Nonetheless I made it in good time for the meeting, even if I was a little flustered. Callum's office was in one of the old grey brick buildings in the downtown proper. It was an old, original with ornate high arches and lots of small windows. The ancient outside facade belied a thoroughly modern interior with a glass reception desk serving more than a dozen companies. I was proffered a paper pass on a lanyard and sent over to an elevator that took me up to the fifth floor.

The fifth floor was taken entirely by Callum and his associates. I was greeted by a pretty smiling lady who stood up from behind her desk as I stepped out onto the floor. She read my name badge and guided me over to a small waiting area. She was a little shorter than me with a true Boston Irish complexion, white skin with a few freckles and dark hair. I recognised her as Debbie, the voice from the call we had had the week before. I thanked her for booking my flights and having put me in such a fancy hotel. Still full from lunch, I turned down the offer of a tea or coffee and did my best not to grin inanely as I watched her saunter back to her desk. Watching the back of her figure hugging black dress as she went, she turned once and smiled, catching me staring. I immediately stared down at the carpet in front of me and turned beetroot red.

Callum Murphy was a warm, friendly man. Much as his voice had been kind, warm and round, so the man in the flesh was larger than life. He seemed like a wise young grandad figure, cut in a suit a little bit too large and boxy for what is frame had become. He had twinkling blue eyes and a large pink handshake. He poured us both some coffee and he sat and told me about the work he had done with Kelvin over the years and how he had enjoyed watching my uncle's success. It took me back a little when he asked if I wanted him now to read the will.

I had been under the impression that we were just in a preliminary meeting and that it would likely involve planning a more formal will reading, one for which the rest of the extended family and friends would join. Callum rocked back in his big tan leather officer chair and laughed.

"No, it's just you that we need."

My mouth went dry and my heart palpitated in my chest as I told him to go ahead.

"Well it is pretty simple in fact. I will explain exactly what it entails but in short he has left everything to you. He left a letter for you with me."

Callum handed over a sealed letter and asked me to sign a chit for it.

I didn't know what to say. My mind was rushing and I could feel the blood pumping round my body.

"So the house and the boat?"

"Yes, everything".

"But there is no way I can look after or maintain those."

Callum laughed again. I guess he had seen it before and expected the silly questions. Kelvin had of course also left several quite large accounts and investments that would cover the house, boat and cars. It was more money than I had ever thought I would see in my lifetime. I would have to pay tax on it but still, it was enormous.

Callum led me back out to his waiting room. He promised to follow up with all of the paperwork. My hour had flown by and I was still quite numb however I was starting to come to my senses.

As I passed her desk, Debbie looked up, smiled her beautiful white grin and wished me a nice day. Still on a wave of elation, I was brave enough to turn round and ask her if she was free that evening. I had no friends in Boston, no plans for the evening, had just become rich and she was very pretty indeed.

"I'm sorry", she replied loudly, "I'm afraid it's against company policy".

I put my hands up in mock surrender, smiling, and then turned back towards the door.

Under her breath she whispered, "but there is nothing per-say against me having a drink at say 7pm at the bar of the Harbour Hotel".

I looked back and she smiled and winked at me as I left.

I took my time walking back through The Common to my own hotel. The afternoon had brought a lot of change and I was still processing it. I felt quite drunk even though I had not touched a drop.

——-

(3)

I got to the Harbour Hotel a little before seven. A quick look online had showed me that there was a really spectacular roof bar so I headed straight on up. When I got up there, however, it was only a few tourists walking around, taking photos of the harbour. Nobody was sitting down drinking. In fairness, it was a bit too cold to sit outside.

I took the elevator back down to find the restaurant bar. It was all deep mahoganies and red leather, a proper drinking bar. On the curve of the polished wooden counter top sat Debbie. She looked up as I strode in and grinned at me, the fluorescent straw of her margarita pinched between her bright white teeth. She had changed from her work attire and was stunning in a short backless cocktail mini. A spiders web of straps crept down her toned back and showed through the V of the dress. She spun on her stool to face me and I have to admit that not only did my heart skip a little beat but my first words caught in my throat. She laughed, proffered me the chair next to her and told the bartender to get me the same as she had.

Chat with Debbie was easy and she was certainly really hot; there is just no other word for it, however there was something not quite right between us. Even though she was constantly flirty, she seemed to know a lot more about my case than I had expected and she was quite inquisitive about the details. Where exactly was the house, how much money came with it, that sort of thing. It all felt a bit vulgar and inquisitorial. Nonetheless, it had been years since I had even had a drink with any girl other than Steph. Despite her multiple infidelities, I had always been faithful to Steph and so having a drink with a new girl felt a bit like re-learning to ride a bike. It meant that I probably lingered my gaze a little too long on Debbie's full red lips or her bust line. I was uptight and she was getting drunk which meant she carried the conversation.

I remember her getting up at one point to use the restroom. She stepped down and away, leaving me on my perch at the bar. As she did so, I couldn't help a glance down her smooth creamy bust, small but wonderfully upward pointed soft boobs just encased in the silk of her dress. Nipples erect and just grazing the fabric as she bent down. As she walked away I followed her shoulders and her toned back that flowed down into the rear of the dress. She had a lot of definition, I guessed she was a swimmer or a climber, something physically strenuous. As I lingered on the departing vision, I resolved that should she let me, I would certainly take her back to my hotel. Money grabbing vulgarity be damned.

We had a few more drinks over over a few more hours but she declined dinner and I think we could both feel the evening winding down. She made her excuses, saying that she had to be ready for work in the morning. I was of course polite, slipped down off my chair and told her I would take care of the bill and offered my hand so that she could jump down herself.

She didn't jump down, she leaned in and caressed her hand around the back of my ear. She pulled me in and I leant in towards her, her musky perfume mixed with the sweetness of alcohol on her breath. I nodded my head under hers. She leant forward and brushed her lips against my ear. She whispered closely, deliberately catching my lobe with her lips on each syllable and blowing her warm, wet breath into my ear. It sent a tingle down my spine.

"Would you like to see more of me?"

As she did, she held my head bent down towards her toned white thighs on the chair. They opened and her other hand gently pulled up the front of her skirt. She revealed a perfect pink shaven pussy, just resting on the bottom of her skirt, the slit slightly glistening with moisture. I leant in close to her, mesmerised for a moment. Her soft hair just hanging over my neck and her lips just closed on my earlobe.

"If you want to see more of me then just invite me down to your new palace", she murmured straight into my ear, biting it softly to punctuate the end of the sentence.

"Bye".

With that she slipped down and padded across the thick burgundy carpet towards the exit. She looked back once, a wry smile and a blown kiss as she padded up the few steps out of the bar.

It took me a few moments to regroup myself and pay the bill. I went back up to my hotel room that evening and sat on the balcony eating from the room service menu. I'm not sure if I believe in 'blue balls' but I did not stop thinking about Debbie and I admit that I did search online for local escorts although I did not go through with it. What I did do was form a plan. I had come to Boston assuming that it would just be a one or two night trip but I realised that I had no reason to head back to NYC immediately.

What I did have a reason to do was to go and check out the house I had just inherited. Despite the warning from Callum not to touch it before the paperwork was done, I couldn't really see the harm. I remembered where Kelvin had kept his spare key and the most simple of simple alarm codes was burned into my brain after the summer of drinking a few years ago. Most importantly, I was wondering if I could keep on a roll with the beautiful Debbie.

———

(4) Tuesday.

The next morning I did a little bit of shopping in the city. Enough simple clothes and food for a week and then rented a car. By lunch time I had got down to the coast and stopped for a lunch in the same place I had got drunk with Kelvin when I saw him last summer. It somehow seemed fitting, as did taking a stroll down to the visitors mooring at the marina with a covert glass of Chablis tucked in-hand. It had turned into a nice warm September day and I was able to find the place on the pontoon where we had last laid up and then subsequently left our groceries. It was a jolly memory.

Lunch timed well with the afternoon sailing of the ferry out to the island. It was an easy crossing, quite a pleasure when the sea is flat and the sun is shining, although a really different experience in the winter storms. I got a coffee from the bar on the ferry and stood up on deck for most of the voyage watching the gulls skim the oily surface of the sea. It was very much a familiar feeling of coming home as the island pulled into view and the boat docked in the little harbour. Many happy recollections of trips past had involved the same travel gymnastics, only this time Kelvin wasn't sitting down on the side of the harbour wall waiting for me. That part was sad.