I'm a sucker for haunted houses. I absolutely love them. Very infrequently am I the one who's scared though. My enjoyment comes from scaring the actors or the visitors. Those of you who know me know what an imp I can be. If I'm out for the group, I spot where the likely places are that the actors are hiding and misdirect the other's attention. If it's the actors, I hang back, see where they're hiding and sneak up on them.
That's why I was especially excited one year by an article in The Patriot. "Sexy Vampire Steals The Show". It explained how the Jaycee's haunted house was the hit of them all. They had acquired a superb actor to lay in a coffin, the visitors would be locked in the room with Him, and He'd rise, swoop down on some unsuspecting person and throw the whole group into panic. He'd even been known to be called out by some women to give them a "kiss". I knew just what to do.
I called four of my friends and arranged for them to go with my sister and me the Friday before Halloween. The house was wonderfully done. Lots of gore, loads of spectacle. It really was splendid. But all of it was a bit lost on me as I was waiting for that particular room. I had built up the excitement in my friends, telling them how very realistic this vampire was. I must admit, I had somewhat piqued my anticipation also.
Finally we had arrived at "Dracula's Crypt" or so the sign said. They were only taking in 30 people at a time so we had to wait. While waiting, we could hear screams and pounding coming from behind the door. Nothing about the door that would give any sign at all as to what lay on the other side. It was simply a white door with a simple knob and someone standing beside it to let people in and out. But I felt the fear on the other side. It was almost palpable. Women shrieking, men screaming. I knew I was going to have a marvelous time.
Then, finally, it was our turn. Since my friends and I were at the front of the line, the six of us had the opportunity to pick the best spot inside.
The room itself was rather plain. Painted grey, some props set about along the walls, and a coffin set upon a platform near the other side. There was another door opposite of the one we entered. Eerie music was playing softly, not loud enough to hear the melody, but it played softly on your mind, setting the tone. The lighting was low and someone had set up a fog machine. It was a wonderful effect.
Everyone became somber as they entered, carefully looking around. A few tested the other door and found it locked. We all settled in to wait for the show.
They'd built a railing about 10 feet from the wall on our side of the room. The six of us found our vantage right along the rail and waited until the others had been ushered in. Then the entry door closed with a loud bang and the lock was set. Everyone fell silent. I glanced around and saw everyone's eyes had gone wide with expectation, or was it fear?
A few moments later, I felt the time was right. I called out softly, "Sir? May I have a kiss?"
There was an audible gasp from a few in the crowd. No one had expected this and if their eyes were anyplace else before, they were all fastened on that coffin now. I felt the hand of one my friends on my shoulder. "Snick, I don't think this is a good idea."
I giggled and shrugged the hand off. "It's ok, I know what I'm doing."
The coffin's lid raised just slightly and a hand grasped the side. My eyes focused there along with the others. Another hand came out and took hold of the lid, raising it until it stood on its own. Then slowly, painfully slowly, He sat straight up from His bed. He turned His head slowly and His eyes locked onto mine sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
His eyes were beautiful. Deep, black eyes that I found myself getting lost in. Penetrating, intoxicating, entrancing eyes that seemed to call to me. I felt hands at my shoulders and arms. I heard my friends calling me back from the rail. But my entire focus was His eyes.
He smoothly found His footing as He stood in His resting place. In a graceful cat-like move He leaped to the floor, yet He never took His eyes from mine. He was magnificent. He was tall, commanding, dressed in a dark tuxedo with a blood red ascot tied just right and tucked into His waistcoat, a diamond tacked neatly in the center. A black cape with red lining completed the picture. He totally looked the part except for one thing. His hair was silver. I'd always seen or imagined vampires as having dark, black hair. But this one's silver mane looked so lovely, so perfect, adding all the more to His commanding presence.
He lept to the floor then took one, maybe two steps towards me. I felt rather than saw the crowd fall as far away from me as possible and from the rail. With the crowd's murmurs growing louder, my friends began desperately trying to catch at my clothes to pull me from behind calling my name. But it all seemed like a dream. Without turning my head, I pushed their hands off me and told them to leave me be. Then I firmly grasped the railing so I couldn't be moved. I was secretly so pleased at the scene that "Dracula" and I had caused. This crowd was certainly getting its money's worth.
Dracula, which was the only thing I could think to call Him, swept one hand free of His cape and I heard the sharp intake of breath from those behind me. "Come to me, my little one. Come, receive your kiss you have called for."
His hand beckoned me as well as His words. But His eyes compelled me. I began to wonder just how much of this scene was real, and just how much had created. But, I climbed under the rail, and stood on the other side.
I heard a woman's voice coming from so far away, "Oh my God, don't!" and I began to feel fear creeping into my thoughts.
"What am I doing?" I started to question.
That's when I heard Him, but not audibly. He was in my mind, caressing my thoughts, draining my fear from me.
"There's no need to hear the others."
I no longer did.
"The only voice you hear is mine."
His was the only.
"You can feel my hunger. How it now grows in you, matching my need as you draw closer."
I began to move.
Slowly, dreamily, walking towards Him. The space between us growing smaller.
"Yes, such a good girl."
I felt a thrill.
"Desiring this as much as I need."
I could see His mouth as He smiled slightly...what were those white points coming down from between His lips?
"There's no need to fear what's about to happen."
Again, the fear vanished.
And I kept walking.
His gaze left mine for just a moment. I paused in my walk and watched as His lips curled in an ugly sneer and He hissed at someone behind me, I assumed one or two of my friends. He quickly returned His gaze to mine before I had a chance to turn my head, capturing my eyes once again.
I restarted my slow walk towards Him not even realizing I'd done so, His voice starting once again.
"That's right, my dear. Come closer to me. You long to feel my embrace, my kiss."
It became my entire focus. To feel His arms around me, to feel His lips on mine. Then suddenly I was there before Him.
He smelled of earth and ages past. Virility seeped from His being. Strength, cunning, wisdom, desire, seemed draped over Him. I began to sway as I was overcome by His presence. He quickly spread His cape and enveloped me within. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs that had seemingly wrapped my mind so tightly.
I giggled a little as I came to my senses and said conspiratorially, "Ok, when you remove the cape, I'll drop to the floor and you can finish the show."
"My girl, you still think we're play acting?" and I felt a moment of horror as His mouth gaped open showing His teeth bared.
They weren't an actor's prop. These were very real and they glistened even in the little light that His cape allowed. He simply moved my head to the side exposing my neck.
I had only a moment to gasp "No!" when I felt His kiss...
Such an exquisite moment. A brief, sharp stab of pain, then only bliss. I no longer heard His thoughts. His thoughts were mine. I became more and more His as He drew life from my neck. Everything I was began to slowly leave as He suckled. My world dissolved around me. We were alone without any of the barriers that separate. My body began to respond to His desire.
One of His hands moved to cover my breasts, enveloping first one then the other. Squeezing, kneading, pinching my nipples until I started at the slightest touch. A hand came up an cupped my head holding me to His mouth as the other then travelled down between my legs, raising my skirt and finally caressing my mound through my panties.
I gasped as I felt His arousal and mine begin to merge. I was throbbing, wet and wanted Him inside me so badly. I started moving on His hand, wanting Him to go further, to take me completely.
He moved the panties aside and began to slide a finger along my slit.
"Ahhhh, such a good girl."
I wanted to be a good girl, to give Him what He wanted. To satisfy His lust, our lust. I parted my legs to allow Him better access... wait, did I do that or did He? It didn't matter. He was pleased, and He continued to drink from me as His fingers found my clit. He teased it slowly, brushing it, circling it and my mind spun in unison with the movement.
"So close, you want this so badly."
My breath coming in gasps. I'd never felt to turned on. He began to pinch and flick my clit.
"Let me inside." He purred in my head.
I responded by opening my body and my mind totally, nothing held in reserve.
He claimed them both as He inserted one, then two fingers deep into my pussy. I found myself moving to His rhythm as my breathing and heart rate increased. My whole being sang as I shamelessly raised and lowered myself on His hand. My arousal building as my blood left me, growing stronger as I was drained.
I knew I was beginning to die, yet I wanted this. This was what I had desired all my life. I don't remember ever having any different thought, this was my life's purpose. To die and serve my Master. At this thought, I came, harder than I ever had before and everything I had been ceased to be.
I could barely stand and He cradled me in His arms as His mouth left my neck. He shook me slightly to bring me from my reverie. Then He moved His ascot and shirt aside and drew a sharp finger nail across His chest leaving a trail of His blood.
"Drink, my sweet...drink deeply and be mine forever."
I couldn't see anything else.. it was like ambrosia dripping from the wound. So bright, so red. The smell was divine, sharp, metallic. I had tasted blood before, my own in taking care of small wounds. But this was nothing like anything I'd ever experienced.
Panting with the effort, I began to pull myself to Him. I couldn't wait to taste it, to bring it into my mouth and swallow.
But, just as I was about to seal my lips on His chest, I felt us being pulled apart. My friends had crossed the rail and they had both of us in their hands trying to free me from His.
I collapsed on the floor once I was physically free, the girls in my group tending to me. I had a faint sense of Him hissing once again, chasing the guys away, jumping the railing, hearing the screams, the pounding on the walls as people tried to escape. Then my world became black.
I woke in the hospital before anyone realized I was awake. I didn't open my eyes or stir, I just listened. I sensed rather than saw the nurse at my bedside and another at the foot. "Yeah, it's the worse case of posthemorrhagic anemia that the doctor has ever seen. Seems she needed 3 pints before they had her stabilized."
I heard her speak but I heard something else I had never noticed before... a thumping... no, two. Same beat... same rhythm...just not in sync. And their warmth... it called to me..I could feel how cold I was and needed to feel their warmth. A growing desire with their heart beats singing in my head. I could almost taste them... wanted to taste them. But just like that, they were gone. They had made their adjustments and they left.
It all came back to me in a flood. The house, my friends, that creature in the coffin, me. What had I done? What had I allowed to happen? This had to be a dream. These types of things only happen in novels. I knew if I just found my way back home, I'd find myself sleeping in my bed. This nightmare would end and I could enjoy it again as I wrote it down in my journal. I sat up quickly...big mistake.
The room spun, but I was on a mission. I took a piece of tape off of the IV stand and pulled the needle from my arm. But before I could place the tape over to help seal it, a little dripped out. not much, but enough. I was mesmerized again by the sight... the smell... how it would taste on my tongue...I shook it from my head then quickly put the tape over the wound.
Ignoring my almost overwhelming need to taste, I refocused and made my way to the closet and put on my clothes. Since it was so late, there weren't many on duty and those that were probably in other patient's rooms. So I silently made my way down the corridor. But with each door I passed each individual heart called to me. I could smell the blood in the rooms of those who had wounds of some type.
I raced as fast as I could to put this place far behind me. This was crazy. I don't drink blood. I'm just reacting to a very vivid dream. Yeah, that has to be it. That guy in the coffin had hypnotized me and I'm just following His story. Hey, that's it! There's nothing wrong. I'm not what He's saying I am.
I started to feel really smug that I had finally figured it out. Very good trick. Very funny. I finally was the one who had had her socks scared off her! I made a mental note to let Him know somehow what a wonderful experience He'd given me. I made my way home. And since this was still a dream, it didn't even bother me that I had no idea how I'd arrived.
I woke the next morning with my mom shaking me. "How in the world did you get home? You were so sick!"
I just laughed lightly and said "I'm just fine. Nothing that a little sleep couldn't fix."
"Well, I'm calling the doctor anyhow. You just stay in bed until I find out what He says." and with that she left.
I sat up and made my way to the bathroom, giggling. I must've really been out of it when I came in. I had to remember to explain to her that the guy in the coffin had just had some fun with me. There was nothing to worry about. It had all been a dream and now I could write it down.
As I entered the bathroom and closed the door, my arm began to hurt. I looked down and found a piece of tape stuck right where an IV would have been placed. The movement of my head caused my neck to hurt and I brought my hand up to cover the spot. My mind began to reel as I began to realize the truth. I stood at the mirror and slowly lowered my hand, fearing and knowing what I would find there.... two large puncture wounds.
I was returned to the hospital until I had fully recovered. What fun that was rolling my eyes. I kept smelling blood and hearing other hearts, but it gradually lessened. Whatever the case, it wasn't plaguing me any longer.
I can't begin to describe how wonderful it is to be awakened in the middle of the night to take a sleeping pill. But, I knew they were only following doctor's orders and he never was around. And, hey, I got to sleep in. Pretty dreamless sleep too. I didn't know I'd ever come to long for another hospital stay.
That lasted a week. Then, it was back to my mom and dad's. No way was I going to go to my apartment alone, by myself, without anyone there, alone (are you catching the theme?). I mean, I wasn't buying into this vampire stuff I'd heard whispered outside my hospital room when they thought I was asleep.
But, that whole experience had me enough on edge I just couldn't face not having someone nearby to help keep my sanity. Even as it was, every little noise I heard that seemed out of place caused me to almost jump right out of my skin.
When my nerves had finally settled enough, I returned home. Everything went along peacefully for a few days, but then the dreams started. The dreams... they were ok at first. Started out with a week if George Hamilton. You know "with you, never a quickie. Always a looooongie"... cute stuff, nothing scary.
Then Bella Lugosi followed... who can be scared of Him... creepy? Sure But scary? Nah!
Then Frank Langella... oh my... all the women in my family had a crush on him when I was young. He played Zorro early in his career. They'd show it on Saturday mornings when we were supposed to be cleaning house. We'd all stop to watch, drool running down our chins.
But in his role as Bram Stoker's Dracula he was superb. I had memorized every movement, every line, every look. Those dreams were amazing. Some mornings I'd wake up with my hand between my legs.
But, about half-way through the week though, they began to change. Frank's hair went from jet black to silver (which helped me understand my confusion). His eyes changed, His whole appearance changed into that man in the coffin. I began to relive that night in the haunted house. Going over every detail and enjoying it more and more.
Gradually, I wasn't dreaming dreams of remembrance, but new and exciting situations where I'd once again give myself totally to Him. He never again latched onto my neck, but making love with Him still felt so much like the sweet surrender of that night. Afterwards, I'd lay beside Him and He'd send me into the most delicious trances.
Through those trances I learned about Him. His name was Aluka... He teased me about being so naive as to think that He was The Dracula. Yet, He was a creature of standing in His world. Through trance I became one with Him as He went out to feed.
I felt the thrill of the chase; the glorious exhilaration received from the almost palpable fear of the victim; the savored moment pausing, inhaling the odor, just before sinking the fangs deep into it's throat; the sweet-salty flavor of the blood as it coursed from the vein into His/our mouth and the velvety texture as it slid down our throats. It was powerful, potent, heady stuff.
He even had me select a potential victim from time to time and explained in detail why that one would or would not be suitable. Fairly soon, I was selecting just the right one for just the right reason. I was even able to dissuade Him from one I found too young.
"There is no thrill to hunt with one so young, no sport," I convinced Him.
He simply smiled at me as He relented and said "You'll learn soon enough, young one."
Those dreams felt so wonderful. I'd wake sated, sexually, mentally and emotionally. It was amazing to watch how my subconscious had taken such a small thing and created an entire new world for me. I looked forward to those dreams. I even went to bed early just to spend more time in this imaginary place.
One night I even skipped dinner just to have that extra time. When I was awake, I'd think about Him. My work suffered... I stopped seeing my friends and family...I became a recluse of sorts. But these dreams were everything for me. Pretty pathetic, I know.
But then (you knew there had to be a but there someplace) it changed.
I was so tired that one night, I could hardly keep moving to finish getting ready for bed. All I wanted to do was lay down, not even looking forward to dreaming. Just wanting desperately to sleep.
I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Deep, sweet rest. And when I dreamed, they returned to my average, dull yet pleasant places. Spending time with my family and friends. Spending time doing some of my favorite things... sitting with a tree (most people just say sitting under a tree), walking through a meadow listening to the brook. Peaceful, sweet dreams.