tagErotic HorrorIn the Hands of a Vampire Ch. 01

In the Hands of a Vampire Ch. 01

byVivian_Addams©

Welcome to In the Hands of a Vampire

The Vivian Addams Story.

The telling of how a mistress vampire came to be because of a particular and infamous vampire from the 1985 horror film Fright Night. Mr. Jerry Dandridge.

DISCLAIMER:

This is strictly fan fiction vampire erotica.

I claim no rights to anything Fright Night but do claim rights to my creation Vivian Addams.


*****

Vivian's POV

I am, Vivian Addams and when I was an eighteen year old stuck in suburban living in the year 1961, I found my calling in the form of some serious bloodshed and deaths that rocked my suburban childhood hell.

Younger me, young naïve Vivian, grew accustomed to living like everyone else. I dressed as others my age dressed and basically kept my true self hidden. My Father was a business man who worked at one of the high rises in the big city of Atlanta. And Mother stayed home and kept the house neat and clean and had dinner ready on the table promptly at six thirty for that's when Father was supposed to come home but he typically worked late.

It neared my favorite time of the year, Halloween which meant I could go crazy with the high school newspaper and create an elaborate story with a creepy vibe. I itched for that moment to come because something inside me said I was about to make a discovery that would ultimately write my destiny to become the fabulous woman you'll know, love, envy, and wish you were.

Strange, it wasn't until now that it all returned to me or was I just dreaming or was it my torment in hell?

Suburban life was hell!

In 1961, that was me, Daddy and Mommy's good little ebony haired angel that was sweet as cherry pie but under that persona I lacked a cherry.

I left another typical day of high school hell, though I had it pretty good, I truly hated every single minute of it.

Out the front door of our typical cookie cutter suburban neighborhood I bounced with my text books hugged against my sickeningly white cashmere sweater with the buttons lined down the center of my back. I walked with hop in my step as I wore my simple flats that slapped against the somewhat cracked sidewalk.

There was excitement in each of those steps because it was the day I would begin to prove myself to that high school newspaper that I, Vivian Addams, was one hell of a promising journalist.

I had approximately three weeks before the Halloween issue would be released to all my high school peers and newspaper staff. Three weeks to investigate and make a killer story out of the local horror story that disturbed suburbia.

With a smile on my natural pink lips, I continued down the sidewalk headed to school as usual. During those morning walks was when I could be myself in my thoughts, buried inside my naturally morbid little brain I knew I would one day be famous.

There was a somewhat thorn in our community that was recently purchased several weeks prior which, oddly enough, the whole gruesome deaths started.

My steps slowed as I looked to the old eye sore which I found oddly beautiful. Thoughts of those deaths replayed in my brain.

The local town's newspaper hadn't printed much about the deaths because they involved those who were scandalous, from the black widow Scarlet James who was found sprawled naked on her bedroom floor and to who Mommy called a lady of the night, prostitute, hooker, or harlot. No one seemed to care about those women. Yet, neither did I because I was more curious why they died and who did it.

Before my baby blues was that eye sore. I studied that looming structure tucked behind a circle of pines, the raised peaks were visible from the street. The old Sanderson Funeral home sign was finally removed from the entrance of the driveway. My head titled as my lips puckered with intrigue. I took a few more steps along the modest property lot. My eyes slightly squinted, saw the glint of metal reflecting against the sunlight. It was a chrome and sleek black rear end of a car.

I did a little perky bounce then proceeded on my way with that hop and skip in each of my steps.

High school bored the hell out of me, though I put on a good face with my so called friends who were mostly blondes with their pretty pastel dresses. I would laugh with them though most of the time I had no clue what I laughed about.

Oh, can't forget the boys and that's what they were. The male population of teenaged guys were a bunch of football tossing boys who butted heads and punched one another in attempt to impress my blonde friends. Unbeknownst to my blonde girl friends, I pretty much made it beyond third base with each of those jocks. Yet, there was one I hadn't quite gotten my pink nails into.

His name was Skip Folsom. Skip was the latest addition to the high school and the Lion's football team. He was shy which was what made me want to get my milky toned hands on him. I enjoyed the naive boys, those who were easily succumbed by their typical teenage hormones.

I made my move and bounced up to Skip, loved how my perky lifted and well endowed tits looked in that tight sweater. "Hiya, Skip!" I sang with that sickening sweet and squeaky voice that most of the girls used, "It's Friday night, so, are you going to the sock hop?" I hated my voice but that was the only way I could really fool a boy to think I was sweet and demur.

Skip quickly put on his cool demeanor, firmly gripped the inside hem of his Letterman's jacket. His buddies obviously encouraged him with their elbow nudges. "Yeah," he simply answered, nodded his head and not once looked at me.

"Well," I sang, batted my big blues at him then sweetly chimed, "Maybe I'll see you there." I lightly puckered my lips then spun around and returned to my group of blondes who giggled upon my return.

I peeked over my shoulder at Skip, kept my lips lightly puckered and he gave me that all too familiar suggestive nod which prompted me to curve my lips at their corners.

I went on with my day and by the end I met up with the high school paper staff who was led by the senior class president Vincent 'Vinnie' Russo who I admittedly lost my sweet cherry to in the back of his dad's pickup.

It was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, Vinnie acted as if he were the head of some major newspaper while I was the only girl there who dared take on any writing assignments. The other two girls mainly acted as Vinnie's secretaries, waited on him hand and foot.

Once the meeting was over, I skipped back home to prepare and get dressed for the weekly sock hop where I'd hope to get my hands on Skip. Hoped I would get get handy with other body parts by later that evening.

Mommy was home, Daddy wasn't yet.

I hurried up the stairs to get into a more colorful outfit. When it came to sock hops or any social event, I desperately tried to make myself stand out amongst my pretty in pink girl friends. I put on my bright red cashmere cardigan, a black A-line knee length skirt, my black dress flats and red ankle Bobby Socks. My nearly rear length black hair I pinned back to the high crown of my head with a red ribbon. I tucked in my little clutch purse a tube of red lipstick and makeup.

Mommy didn't allow me to wear makeup. I pinched it from the local drugstore.

I skipped down the stairs, prepared to shout out my goodbyes and what my whereabouts were going to be.

Mommy called out to me from the living room.

I rolled my eyes with annoyance. I still had to put on my makeup once I was out the door. "Mommy, I'm heading out!" I shouted near the front door, used my sweet angelic voice, "You know it's sock sop Friday, Mommy!"

Mommy came to the foray with a big smile on her perfectly makeup enhanced face. She prided herself on her appearance, mostly because of Daddy. "I know that, dear." she sang to me without her smile faded then explained, "Your Daddy's guest has arrived early and it's only proper for you to meet him."

"Daddy has a guest?" I asked, and in thought I screamed 'what the hell' then sweetly commented, "I didn't know we were having company, Mommy." My tone was almost a childlike mimic of hers.

She stepped into the foray then brought her hands to my shoulders. She spoke with a softer tone, made certain her voice was low enough so the guest wouldn't hear, and explained, "He's a new client of your Daddy's and just bought that ghastly Sanderson funeral home."

Yet, Mommy's announcement perked my interest because she spoke of that very specific run down funeral that was purchased around the time the deaths started happening.

"Daddy's not home yet," she announced nothing new, "And I would appreciate if you could stay a bit..." she paused, saw my whiny expression, then firmly said, "...You have two hours of fun while I have to stay and keep your Daddy and his client happy." her fake smile returned, "You can be a good girl and help your Mommy out for a bit until your Daddy gets home."

I watched her lips again spread into a genuine smile along with a gleam in her eyes. She leaned closer, looked me in the eyes with those that had a youthful glimmer, oddly similar of someone my age. She strangely commented, "And, besides, he's a very attractive man."

My lips puckered, found it amusing how my Mommy outwardly spoke her opinion on another man's appearance. I smiled wide then nodded and sweetly chimed my agreement, "Okay, Mommy."

She took my hand and we strolled into the living room where Daddy's client was located.

I went to a complete stop the moment I saw the man's backside.

He stood before the lit fireplace, seemingly studied the framed family photos where one was of that year's senior photo Mommy requested to be done in color which looked more like pastels than real life.

Mommy sang, "Mr. Dandridge, I would like you to meet my and Stanley's daughter."

Mommy's voice sounded far away though she stood right beside me. I felt the pucker about my lips tense then that man slowly turned. In an instant my wide baby blues were immediately infatuated with his mouth and the slant of its smile. I was literally speechless, my eyes locked in a stare with those lips and nothing else.

Mommy again sang, "Vivian, say hello to Mr. Dandridge."

How could I say anything with every damned word seemingly unable to pass my subtle pucker?

With an amazing gracefulness, this quite stylishly dressed man moved towards me and those lips I was totally focused on came closer.

My eyes took a moment to shift to Mommy, she seemed almost enraptured by this stranger. My eyes again shifted and again I was hypnotized by that mouth.

Mommy spoke up, "Vivian, be a good girl and shake Mr. Dandridge's hand." Then she gave a little hint of a school girl's giggle.

My mind questioned, his hand?

I forced my eyes down and saw his offered hand. I immediately thought, what a hand it was. That wasn't a hand made of hard work, callused or over worked. In fact, that hand was similar to Daddy's but more maintained and lovely.

I felt my arm lift then I watched my hand slip into his. I quickly noticed there was an odd chill about his hand but the skin felt heavenly. I immediately was prompted to wonder of how that hand would feel elsewhere besides my hand.

Then I heard the voice that went with those lips.

"Hello, Vivian," he spoke so smoothly, the sound of my name spoken by his sweet melody was positively heavenly.

My eyes eagerly shifted, wanted to watch every motion of those fabulous lips.

His lips moved smoothly with each fabulously spoken syllable he spoke, "A pleasure to meet you."

I hesitated to release his hand but reluctantly dropped my hand back down and gripped my clutch. Again I glanced at Mommy, she oddly blushed while she stared at Mr. Dandridge unlike how she did Daddy. I somewhat had a problem prying my eyes from Mommy's strange expression. Then I finally spoke my prim and proper greeting, "Yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Dandridge."

I again looked to the stranger and finally strayed my eyes from their focus of his lips. I quickly discovered why Mommy blushed and stared.

My thoughts praised, oh hell, what a face!

He was a mature man in his early forties at the most but damned gorgeous. I never saw anything remotely as handsome throughout my eighteen years in my little suburban nightmare hellhole for a town. Oh, not even stunning Elvis Presley compared to what was before me and Mommy. I believe that was when my infatuation with more mature men began, because of Mr. Dandridge.

"Vivian." Mommy said my name loudly.

I was snapped from my study of Daddy's stunningly handsome client. I quickly looked to her and possibly witnessed, was it, jealousy?

Mommy questioned my etiquette, "What is it we do when we have guests?"

My brain scrambled then remembered Mommy's proper etiquette lessons. "Oh," I spoke up, realized my poor manners then apologized, "I'm sorry, yes."

I again shifted my eyes to that stunner of a man and sweetly asked, "Would you like a drink, Mr. Dandridge?"

I watched his lips closely as they slightly broadened their slanted smile. It was as if he heard a different meaning in my polite question.

Again I watched his lips every intricate motion.

"Thank you," he spoke and politely accepted, "I would appreciate it."

My mind praised, what a damned voice!

"What kind of drink would you like, Mr. Dandridge?" Mommy quickly asked then stated, "Vivian is an expert preparing drinks for Stanley and she can make anything you would like."

With those glorious brown eyes of his focused on Mommy, his amazing melody sang, "Please, call me Jerry."

Mommy giggled, "Oh, why yes."

Her giggle prompted me to again look at her. My head tilted and lips puckered curiously. She stood there and glowed as if she were my age with her hand rested against her chest. Had I witnessed Mommy flirt with a man who wasn't Daddy? She never even flirted with Daddy.

Mommy sang with a tone I never heard before, almost sickeningly sultry, "Jerry, what would you like?"

My eyes shifted to Mr. Dandridge, felt a curious lift of my left brow. I waited to hear his answer.

His eyes seemingly focused within Mommy's.

"Excuse me," I spoke up then cleared my throat and used my sickening sweet teen melody and asked, "What can I get for you, Mr. Dandridge?"

His eyes finally shifted to me.

I heard Mommy swoon with a whispery sigh as if she had just held her breath the entire time she looked at him.

He sang, "A gin and tonic, please."

I gave a smile then a nod then sorta bounced towards Daddy's little bar tucked in the living room corner. I stepped behind the leather trimmed bar, fetched the proper glass for such a drink then began mixing. My eyes constantly glanced over at Mommy, I listened to her offer Mr. Dandridge a seat on the sofa.

He sat at the end of the sofa then stretched one arm over the puke yellow and floral back cushions and rested an elbow atop the sofa arm.

Mommy sat down on the chair that matched the sofa that was set quite close where Mr. Dandridge was seated.

I had never in all my eighteen years witnessed my Mommy act as she was, not with any man which included Daddy.

I finished mixing the drink then, to break whatever oddity was going on before my eyes and ears, I loudly asked, "On the rocks, Mr. Dandridge?"

He turned his head with that cunning smile firm, "No, thank you," he answered then stated, "I prefer my drinks warm." Again, there must have been type of underlining meaning or suggestion because again he broadened his slanted smile.

"Okay," I chirped, shook off the oddness then skipped out from behind the bar and delivered it directly to the guest of honor. I reached it down to him with a little bend at my waist and sweetly sang, "Here you go, Mr. Dandridge."

He smiled up at me then reached and took the glass but not without his soft but chilly fingertips lightly grazed against mine.

I held my wide and bright smile then released the glass.

He politely said with a dash of mysterious cunning, "Thank you, Vivian."

My name continued to sound heavenly when spoken by his smooth tone.

I politely said in return, "You're very welcome, Mr. Dandridge."

Mommy surprisingly said,"Vivian, you can go ahead and attend your dance." then she added, "You're Daddy will be home shortly."

"But," I went to speak up to remind her of her damned determined request.

"It's fine, dear." Mommy looked at me with a tilt of her head then encouraged, "Go on and have fun with your friends."

"Oh," I mumbled a bit with confusion then said, "Well, if you're sure, Mommy."

Mommy asked, "Will you be eating out with your friends also?"

"Yes, Mommy," I answered then explained, "We're going to the soda shop after the sock hop."

Then more surprises, Mommy stated, "Well, I want you home no later than eleven."

Typically I had to be home by nine on weekends. Hell, I wasn't gonna question being allowed a little slack on my leash and quickly took that slack. I sang, "Yes, Mommy." I felt that giddy little naughty girl inside me jump up and down for joy, gifted more time to seduce Skip Folsom.

Her attention on Mr. Dandridge, Mommy instructed, "Well, say goodbye to Jerry."

I shifted on my black flats and gave a slight proper curtsy to my Daddy's damned good looking client then politely sang, "Goodbye, Mr. Dandridge," naughtiness somewhat hinted from my voice, "And it was a pleasure meeting you."

Oh, was it ever a pleasure. And knew that someone was going to be explicitly written about in my diary that night.

He prominently grinned then used his impeccable tone, "The pleasure was all mine, Vivian."

Again, my name was divine with his spoken melody. For some reason I believe he caught on that I enjoyed the sound of my name when he spoke it.

"And, Vivian," again he heavenly spoke, "I hope you do enjoy yourself," he paused to take a sip of his drink then advised, "Enjoy your youth while you can, Vivian, because at one point it will feel centuries away."

Mommy nearly blurted with almost desperation, "Oh, how true!"

I frowned at his meaning.

Again, I shook off anything peculiar about that gorgeous man's words then skipped up to Mommy who continued to be strangely caught up in Daddy's client. I bent at the waist then leaned and pressed a kiss on her cheek with my eyes glancing over at Mr. Dandridge.

It was odd but exciting, he was focused on me instead of Mommy who started to ramble on and on about something. It was strange, Mommy seemed oblivious that whom she spoke to was not at all focused on her or whatever she yammered about.

I rose up, my left brow curiously lifted as I continued to look at him. Slowly I stepped behind Mommy's chair, his eyes followed me. I paused behind Mommy's chair and felt my lips form their little pucker. I lifted my hand and gave him my flirty finger wave. Oh, yes, I flirted with that gorgeous older man behind my oblivious Mother's back.

I turned and sashayed toward the entryway, my hands gripped my purse in front of me. I felt the length of my ponytail brush against my back. I paused in the entryway and did a little turn to the side while Mommy continued to talk to that man in a way she never talked to Daddy.

Mr. Dandridge's head lowered at the chin with those large browns aimed at me.

I opened my clutch then reached inside and removed my scandalous tube of red lipstick. I brought my finger to my lips then pointed to the back of Mommy's head. I took a moment and slicked the red lacquer over my puckered lips then tucked the tube back into my purse. I tucked the clutch under my arm then undid a few buttons of my red cardigan. I obviously hinted that I was definitely no angel.

I saw a different shape form about his cunning grin. I brought my fingertips near my newly red painted lips then blew the gorgeous man a kiss. With a quick upward kick of my foot, I sashayed my way into the foray then out the door.

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