Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene Fourteen

Lying Through Her Fangs

 

SCENE FOURTEEN

Hael’s P.O.V.

No words were said as she disrobed and put on her first selection. I pushed thoughts of her being naked just feet away from me and focused on not getting an obvious erection from my vivid imagination.

“Here’s number one,” she opened the door and took small steps to the gilded mirror behind my chair.

She was in an off white dress of thick lace that flared at her hips and feet but hugged her in every place in between. The expanse above her breasts was see through and her arms were bare. A glint of a thin gold belt encased her tiny looking waist.

“Lovely, but I’m seeing something a bit more grand for you,” stated Fran.

Xylia sternly looked over her figure in the glass but wasn’t impressed.

“I agree with you. It’s a beautiful dress but dancing would be at a minimum.”

“It’s a virgin Morticia dress and hugs you well,” I added.

Xylia laughed, “And that sums it up nicely.”

She swiveled back to the dressing room.

“I’ll need a zipper help on this one,” she said shortly afterwards.

Fran walked past me as she waited on the other side of the door. There was a pool at her feet of a dusty pale pink with blurs of black. Once she came from around the door, I could see they were flowers that trailed up and down from neck to floor. Strategically placed lace gave the illusion that she was barely covered but I knew better.

“An improvement,” was all Fran said.

Xylia turned in the mirror, showing that her back was exposed to below breast level. I could see myself licking up her spine.

“Very Rita Hayworth,” Fran interjected.

“It’s certainly a maybe,” Xylia added before going back to the other selections.

There was a heavy rustling sound and the door opened for Fran to zip her up again.

She drug the train and the lights danced off the steel gray sequins that covered her from padded shoulders to a deep cut front before it dropped to the carpet.

“An inch more and my navel would be visible through the gray mesh.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I replied to Xylia with a grin.

“Too heavy,” Fran countered.

With a sigh, Xylia was back to the room again.

“Two left before we regroup,” Fran responded to the sigh.

Another moment and she could be heard before the door clicked open, “Is this too much like a romantic wedding dress?”

“It’s a combination of that and a negligee,” Fran added with a nod.

The front was soft and draped around her but then she turned and her back was bare to the waistline before the fabric curved over her butt.

“Wow,” was all I could say. Maybe I needed to be a back man instead of a leg man.

“One spilled glass of wine and I’d look like Carrie,” Xylia giggled.

Fran laughed back, waving her hand. “Why would you even joke like that?”

“So goes my life, and my luck has slipped into the darkness with it,” Xylia retorted as she took a minute to get the whole view of the glamorous dress.

“If you’ve run into Hael then your luck can’t be that bad, right?”

Fran winked at me and then met Xylia’s gaze in the mirror. Xylia looked at me then the floor. “One more.”

“The blue. I have a feeling it will be the one.”

Xylia shrugged and I half way hoped it would slip from her shoulders.

I ran that wish out of my mind and focused on my shoes.

“Um, yeah,” was all I heard from Xylia.

“Oh yes, the buttons,” Fran said before moving to the door that was slowly opening. “I believe I was on the mark with this choice.” Fran sounded satisfied.

Then Xylia walked around the wood door and my jaw hit the ground with a thump before I prayed my arousal wasn’t obvious. I clasped my hands in my lap and shifted, not leaving the chair. Then she walked toward the mirror and I could see her legs through the sheer navy blue fabric. I slid my gaze up to her hip before her body was covered in lace again. It was a freaking peep show of lean, curving muscle. Nope, I was a leg man. No doubts there.

Then I was shaken by Fran’s voice. “Yes, it’s the one.” I looked her way and she smiled at the heat in my eyes. Nodding, she went to where Xylia stood and she started talking nonsense about shoes. Good lord, I was going to die from that woman in that dress.

***

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Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene Thirteen

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene Thirteen

Xylia’s P.O.V.

He extended his hand to me and I took it after a momentary pause.

“Let’s go.” With a tug on our connection, he pulled me after him as he traveled to the end of the mall and the other major department store housed there.

Winding through the various racks and displays, a curvy blonde smiled as she saw us approach. She was an enchanting combination of Swedish coloring and business savvy standing in small heels and a severe black pant suit.

After they quickly hugged, he introduced us.

“Fran, meet Xylia. Xylia, Fran is the best personal shopper that I’ve ever come across.”

“Hael, I’m the only one you’ve ever met so keep it down to a low roar.”

We shook hands and then she surveyed my form in a way that had me thinking she knew exactly what I would appraise for. It was strange and calculating, worse than any of the vampires that I had met in my many years.

“Size six or a very tailored eight, depending on designer. Shoes, possibly a seven. Am I right?”

My smile was genuine, “Seven and a half on the shoes but perfect on the rest. You’re good.”

She inclined her head slightly, “In my field, every detail counts. So, what brings you to us today?”

Hael answered her, “Xylia has a business event and needs a sexy dress. She couldn’t find anything suitable before running into me so I prayed you were around to solve the crisis for us.”

 “I can certainly do my best,” then she gazed back over me. “I have your sizes, shape, and coloring so now I need details about the function in order pick to pick something suitable for the occasion.”

Hael let go of my hand and my palm instantly felt the loss of his human heat. A vampire could get spoiled by such warmth after years of sleeping alone in the serpent cool shell of our skins.

“It’s in a historical hotel downtown, mostly indoors but with a small seating area outside. Dinner and dancing with a cocktail hour. The attendees will be upper brass and all supporters in our foundation. Think of it as a celebration and promotional engagement in one.”

“Then I know what to start you off with. Come with me.”

She waved us toward a single white door set in between the lingerie and the formal wear departments. She unlocked it before she waved us inside. It was like the inside of a small boutique and where she brought clients for a more individual session. There were two dressing rooms with shuttered doors and a large three way mirror in between. Walls of charcoal lavender and chairs of black velvet were the only other adornments as the clothes were to be the focus of the room.

“Have a seat. Would either of you like a drink? I have sodas, bottles water, and can make a small pot of coffee.”

“I’d like a bottled water. Xylia?”

“No, thank you. I finished my coffee right before being brought over here,” I smiled at Fran for her thoughtfulness.

“I’ll get that water for you, Hael. Xylia, are there any colors you absolutely hate or any attribute that you don’t want shown off?”

I had no idea why I looked at Hael but the amused grin on his face had me turning back to Fran.

“Bright orange makes me shudder and I’m fit enough to attempt any suggestions you have.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be back with some dresses in just a few minutes. If you need anything in the meantime, just hit the buzzer on the wall by the dressing room and I’ll be right back in.” She nodded and softly shut the white door behind herself.

“Wanna take bets on what she’ll bring back in?”

“What do you know about shopping for dresses?” I eyed him and fought my grin.

“I’m a red blooded male who looks at the covers of magazines.” He had a hand to his chest.

“And seen all the lingerie fashion shows at Christmas.” I added.

“Of course, I can’t let my Man Card go for missing that one.”

I snickered at his look of honest appeal. Sure, he was red blooded all right. Type B was my guess.

A knock came at the door and a petite red head teenager came in with two bottles of water. Hael reached out for them and the girl blushed to match her hair as he gave her a breathtaking smile when she passed them to him. It was adorable. She skittered from the room before she could utter much more than a giggly word of thanks.

“You sure you don’t want one?” He asked me.

“I’m fine, really.”

His long fingers twisted off the lid and he drank the cold fluid. I watched the way his throat worked and a pulse jumped at the side of his neck. His heartbeat became obvious in the still air around us and I closed my eyes.

“Are you okay?”

I popped them back open and focused on the bottle instead of the virile man.

“Fine, just saying a prayer that this works out.”

It was only a couple of minutes later that the door opened and Fran came in with layers of fabric over her bent arm.

“I’m sorry for the delay. There were a couple of dresses that I had to hunt down in your size after the shipment came in yesterday. They aren’t due to go on the floor until this weekend but I get to break the rules when it comes to my clients.”

She put them in the dressing area closest behind Hael’s chair and she stood by the doorway like a general awaiting his troops.

Going in, the door clicked as she shut it behind me.

“Any undergarments or shoes can be selected after the dresses are narrowed down. If you don’t like this round of gowns, then I’ll see what else can be collected for you.”

“I appreciate this, Fran.”

“Think nothing of it. I love putting perfect items together. Just call out when you’re about ready. I can even zip up anything that you can’t reach.”

Hael interrupted, “Why can’t I have that job? You two just met.”

“You’re just a sore loser,” I answered and grabbed the first hanger.

***

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Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene Twelve

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene Twelve

Hael’s P.O.V.

She’d been standing there with her little pink tongue in a white mound of whipped cream and my gut had clenched at the mere sight. Being around her was like an episode of The Twilight Zone and a walking wet dream. Why did this woman not have a man in her life? Was I walking into a nightmare driven by high heels and jaw dropping legs? But I’d take many more hours of unexpected conversations to get the chance to feel those sinful looking lips on mine.

She was surprised to see me but had covered it well. My questioned hadn’t been answered but I currently had her on my arm as we headed back into the land of racks and annoying sales clerks. I directed her to a back corner where sequins glittered like damned Christmas trees but she stopped in her tracks.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when we stopped rocking on our heels at the abrupt stop.

“I’ve already been in here and nothing struck my fancy.” Her eyes scanned the expanse as if looking for something new to focus on.

“Wanna head to a different store or keep looking around here?”

“Either one but I’m just not thinking I’m going to find anything suitable at this late of a date.”

“The other night you were very gung ho and had me agreeing to wear a tux for you.” I made a scene at looking all around her. “Where did she go?”

She smirked. “I think she got befuddled by a hot guy and lost her marbles.”

That was something I wanted to hear. We both felt the pull of our chemistry and I wouldn’t lie that it wasn’t good to know.

“Let’s walk around to see if there’s anything worthy in here and then we’ll head to another store.”

She nodded and her waves bounced around her face. It would look great spread across my pillows, if I was lucky enough to see it.

When she didn’t seem to be getting enthusiastic about any dresses that we passed, I veered her off that track and down a few doors.

“Do I need to buy you another coffee? That last one left a sexy smile on your face.”

“If I don’t find a dress soon then I’ll need severe amounts of caffeine to get myself together.”

“That’s a bald-faced lie, woman. Looking at you, I’d say you’ve never had a hair out of place that didn’t look amazing. Why do women put themselves into these situations over looks anyway?”

By the time the words got out of my mouth, I had walked a couple of steps passed her unmoving body. She had an eerie way of resembling a statue when she did that.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you. I really do want to know why women feel the need to outdo all other women in the same area code. Why can’t you be more like men?”

“Women are vain. Yea, I’ll give you that. But most of us want to feel beautiful, not make every woman in the room hate each other. We’re our own worst critics and women can be cattier than the lion’s den at the zoo.”

“Maybe it’s my lack of estrogen. I still don’t get it.” I shrugged.

“When your lady walks into a room and your jaw drops, don’t you like that?”

“Sure, what guy doesn’t?”

“Then you should understand why we do these things.”

The gleam in her eye told me she wasn’t pissed at my questioning and she waved me ahead to the store we had stopped at. Then something hit me like lighting.

“I have an idea. You may not know me very well but just trust me on this. Hold on.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.

I thumbed through the business cards in my wallet and found what I was looking for. This was a long shot but worth the effort. Dialing the number, there was an answer on the third ring.

“Fran, are you working tonight? Are you booked? Wonderful. I’ll see you in five with two clients.”

I shut the phone and looked at the sexy thing next to me. “Wanna try your luck with a stranger?”

Her eyebrows shot up and her emotions of fear and surprise rolled across her face.

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

“What if I came up with a way for you to not only get a dress but have the whole outfit practically plotted out for you?”

“I’d have to kiss you, but that’s not likely to happen. The event is this coming weekend and I’m in a mall with one third of my options used up.”

“Is a moment of trust too much to ask? Come on. What do you have to lose?”

 His innocent boy next door look he shot her way must have won her over. I’m a guy with a decent sales pitch when I’m totally committed to a great looking item.

“So, what’s this big secret and where do we go?”

“Down to the end of the walkway and through a few departments. Let’s go.”

I offered my hand and when she slowly accepted with her cool palm,  a jolt of awareness shot through my body.

“Lady, prepare to strip because I have you a personal shopper.”

*** 

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 11

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene Eleven

Xylia’s P.O.V.

A few days later, I was back at the mall to shop for my dress.  

What look did you shoot for when you paid a man to act as if he likes you?

He was so devastatingly hot that I hated myself for having enough of a conscience to uncompel him. If this was an ordinary date then I would have honed in on the sexiest dress that the mall could produce. It wasn’t fair that I met such a great guy to ruin it all with being what I am. The fates were laughing out loud at my romantic endeavors, no doubt.

If I kept shaking my head every time I went over the ridiculousness of my situation, I’d have the adult version of shaken baby syndrome. I could have gone to the large chain bridal shop for my evening gown, but I didn’t have the guts to tell anyone the reason for my last minute shopping excursion. My plan had been to hit the major stores and then the coffee shop if I needed reinforcements.

Vampires need to make a night time coffee shop. It would need a name like Fang’s Frapps or Crypt Coffee Cafe. 

I’d like an Iced Coffin Bait with non-fat O positive please.

That needs to be what I do when I lose my accountant job for being a liar and total fake.

            But enough procrastinating. I shoved myself from my warm leather upholstery and out in the mild night. I’d parked at the entrance closest to the women’s department this time and waltzed into the atmosphere of woven cotton and rose based perfumes.

            My eyes were drawn to the far left where sparkles reigned on an assortment of metal racks. I knew I wanted a long gown so I avoided the shorter dresses made for teens. Closer to the dressing room was a selection of more mature dresses with ritzy price tags. I flipped through sequins, gold lame, chiffon, and taffeta, but none seemed spectacular enough to wow a gigolo who had probably seen it all. And because it was work related, I couldn’t go all diva pop star. I at least wanted to appear as a confident, attractive woman with business savoir faire.

            The next thirty minutes were spent discarding dress after dress for lack of sex appeal. I scrutinized the rest of that department but found absolutely nothing. The cosmetics department barely got a polite nod as I stomped past them and their blending powders and eye primer.

            The coffee shop was a few doors from the next department store so I indulged myself in a large java chip frappe. Instant mood lift. I strolled past a lovely shoe store that had high heels of all colors on glass shelves in the display window. Once I got my hands on a suitable evening gown, I’d hit that place up for coordinating shoes. I guess my mind had been focused on getting a date, instead of getting together a whole look for the benefit. Geez.

            “Well, hello Xylia Natouri.” A deep voice behind me jolted me, mid-lap, out of the whipped cream on my beverage.

            I swallowed and quickly wiped my bottom lip.

Please don’t’ let me have any smeared on my face. Please, please, please.

            “Hael? What are you doing here?” I snapped the plastic lid back on my drink so it wouldn’t slosh on my sky blue skinny jeans.

            I’m such an idiot!

            “Do I ask if you come here often?” He looked at me with questions in his gaze.

            “Um, I’ve still got to get my outfit for the benefit so here I am.”

            I should have had him forget me altogether when I took the compulsion back. Had I fucked this up?

            “Weren’t you supposed to contact me? Or did I misunderstand?” His brow wrinkled and he has fidgeting with his belt loops.

            Shit!

            I stared at my cup like it had all the answers that I needed. I was a vampire, not a psychic. Auras didn’t do crap for this particular problem, other than inform me that Hael was cautious about this situation. Well, that made both of us. I was clueless as to how I had screwed this up so badly.

            “Didn’t I talk to you about that, before we left? You know, in my car?” I was stammering like an idiot.

“I thought you were kidding. I kept telling you I wasn’t pushed into anything no matter how charming your ways of persuasion were. If you hadn’t been so cute about it, I would’ve argued till the sun came up. Either way, I’m here and you’re here so let’s get this going.” Hael extended his elbow to me.

If I could have been floored, then I would have but my vampire senses were working against my adopted human habits. Vampires don’t faint but it would have been an interesting way out of this mess.

His aura changed to light pink with an edge of teal. His eyes lasered into mine in determination. A muscle twitched up at the top of his neck, by his ear.

“You’re set on this. Going with me.” It was an affirmation, not a question. Even his scent changed with the increase in his pulse.

I linked my arm and enjoyed the warmth of his body.

“I’m a man of my word. Unless you got a better offer from someone else?”

I shook my head at him, causing some of my hair to land in my eyes. His calloused hand brushed it out of my way and the skim of touch against my cheekbone caused me to shiver.

The truth was best. “No. No better offers.”

I’d have to leave Christianna a message to call off the dog from the escort pound.

***

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 6

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene 6

Here’s hoping the mall would be better. Wait, did I just say that? I’m so not a teen heading for the perfect Twilight movie premier outfit. This is a trip by a grown woman window shopping for a man who’s probably better off with a store mannequin. But I took what was left of her coffee and headed to the land of kiosks and hormone driven wallets.

I hid at the back of the mall at dusk, by the copse of trees, was the safest place to park on an overcast day in Atlanta. As I left my heavily tinted SUV there, my equally tinted sunglasses went with me. I entered the largest department store at this mall put me in the men’s department--the best location for men to shop and disappear before they got anywhere near the throb of humanity. Men had it easy. Most of us women had to strut through cosmetics and perfumes to get to the lingerie section. By then you carried the ambiance of a street walker coming in for fishnets and garter belts.

Standing in the middle of the aisle between business and casual, I fought for which to “shop” through first. Gentlemen in suits and ties were elegant and Bond-like but most were posturing peacocks. Men in casual attire were more my style, though I didn’t exactly get sweaty over a cowboy in a Stetson ad. My likes lay in the middle and I was being stared at while I stood flipping between styles.

There were a few men eyeing me over racks, but I pretended to be looking at the rainbow of wrinkle free dress shirts in front of me. Having no idea what a size fifteen was in these things, I flipped through to make it appear like I knew what I was doing.

“Looking for a particular size or color?” asked a voice behind me. The voice belonged to a tall brunette standing just outside my personal space.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in your way?”

“Yes and no.”

“Which is it?” My eyes sized him up and this was worth a moment of my time.

“Yes, you’re in the way but no, I don’t happen to mind.” He flashed a smile.

It couldn’t be this easy. No way.

“I can get out of your way, then?” I swiveled but his words stopped me.

 “Why, when I have an excuse to reach around you like this?” His left arm snaked out and grabbed a light blue shirt from the metal rack by my face. Then he did the same with his right hand on my other side. “Or this.”

The second hand held a sage green that matched the tight polo shirt he currently had on over strategically ripped jeans.

“Is that what you came for?” I asked as I made great eye contact with him, daring him onward..

He looked at both and then at me. “Oh darn, wrong sizes.”

He slipped them back in their appropriate slots simultaneously, and reached further down. He was positioned at my waist with both hands and came back slowly with a burgundy and a bright red.

I tilted me head over my shoulder to take in the selection again.

“Those aren’t the same colors. What shades do you need?”

“Oh, you’re right. These would look better on you.”

He copied the previous maneuver then slipped his hands to each side of my hips to the lower rack. This had him leaning far enough into me that we were staring into each other’s eyes. This was prime for a kiss, a bite, or compulsion but I waited to see what the suave man with light brown eyes and perfect teeth would do as his next trick.

“Hmmm, black and classic white. You could never go wrong there. Right, my dear?”

Hovering there, in my face. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. No racing. Shouldn’t the beat be more up tempo if I was exciting him? This wasn’t right. Most guys like this were usually—

“Gary, what the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupted my thoughts. “I send you in here for a shirt for the wedding and you try to pick up some hoochie in the meantime.”

“White or black, Darla dear?” He whipped, with inhuman speed, to face the banshee coming at him.

“Excuse me?” She stopped within two steps of us.

I wanted to back up but my escape would have taken the rack with it.

“This lady was just helping me with what shirt, dearest. She thought the black but I told her you always liked me in white as it was more retro to set off your classic clothing style.”

He put on puppy dog eyes for me to go along with this and I was sorely tempted to tell him he was the one trying to make a sale. But I didn’t want ...  why does she go along with it? Tell us. Especially after the “older lady” bit.

“Quite true. In fact, I almost tipped the display over and he had to reach for me. He’s quite a man. You’re a lucky lady.”

Darla’s pinched face looked like she was deciding whether to buy this line. She had her hands full with this one and I wasn’t sure who I felt sorry for more.

“Did you get the right size, sir?”

He had to look at it twice to make sure. “Yes, indeed. Thanks and be careful.”

She humphed at me, tucked her arm in his, then sashayed her man out of the department, all the while complaining about her fluffy, pink, bridesmaid’s dress.

And to think I imagined it would be easy. Nope, not that easy. Score one for the Old Cat Lady and zip for the Vampire Liar.

So long as I was at the mall anyway, I decided to find a dress for the party and headed to the women’s section. Work had been hellish the last few months and I hadn’t had time to shop anything other than online sales.

I took the last sip of my now room temperature frap, and turned for the waste basket. My arm hit a solid wall and bounced. Dropping the cup like a surprised mortal would, I looked up to see what folly I had just made in public. He was no folly. He was hot  with his boy next door charm mixed with romance cover model sex appeal. And I had just about clotheslined him in the juniors department.

“I’m so sorry.” Thank heavens it had been empty.

“No problem, I should have been looking where I was going.”

We both bent to get it and our eyes met. His heart cranked up. Hello hawtness, my name is Damsel and I’m in distress. Can you come save me?

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Part Two of my Paranormal Blog Book

Lying Through Her Fangs

Part Two

Where the hell was I going to get a man that could tolerate an evening of paranormal flamboyance, let alone the Halloween extravaganza that was thrown every year? I couldn’t get the best-suited man even if an ad was placed in the local newspaper. With my current path in the love department, I’d be lucky to get laid in the next three years and that was without compelling a man to see past the fangs. Well, that wasn’t completely true. I’d had offers, but from douchebags who thought they were God’s gift to fangs. That was the main reason for keeping to solitude and quick meals on the fly. None of them would thrill me enough to get a layer of sweat on my vampire tough skin. I wasn’t about to say I was on the ugly side of the coffin but I certainly wasn’t a sexual goddess who oozed pheromones with every twitch of my hips. As I was of Algerian descent, I had long, thick hair and an hourglass figure, great attributes to have if you were going to be stuck as an immortal. My height was a bit above average and olive undertones kept me from looking like a pale creature of the moon. Still, finding a man was a possibility but not one that would withstand the oddity that I called life.

Berating myself the whole way home, I decided to do some research on the internet for the best places to meet great guys but the plan would need to include a clandestine way of compelling this man to go out with me. Seriously, who wanted that type of relationship? Well, the plan had merits for this particular case and would leave no strings of attachment behind except him getting a nagging feeling that he'd met me before. The reality of this not being an easy feat brought me full circle to the previous advertisement idea, my front door was in front of me and I hadn’t paid attention to anything as I’d sulked the whole way back to my lonely house in historical downtown Decatur. After tossing my leather clutch on the side board, the Mary Janes were slipped off by the time I had the screen blazing on my fifteen inch laptop. Scoping sites, I accidentally looked up an escort service on purpose. Telling myself it was only research didn’t take away the icky feeling at paying someone to get me through a couple of lonely nights of embarrassment in front of colleagues and my few friends.

“Why did I lie to them in the first place? I’m a freaking idiot. All I had to do was fake a happy face and convince them that my going alone was more professional when attending work related events.”

Smacking my fingers onto the keyboard in annoyance, I yelped when moody elevator music came on for the site that I had engaged. The header was clean and to the point, with tabs of the services, information about the company, and personal biographies on the employees. Thank the heavens above the site didn’t give me more viruses than I could pick up from anyone at the local dance club. Luckily, the only virus I could catch was some hybrid strain of lycanthropy as my DNA was already genetically altered from the Vlad Syndrome I had been born with.

Without a risk of STDs, and the ability to compel anyone I want [to do XXX], sex should be more of an option.

“Why am I such a shrinking violet?” I asked the dust mites and leather upholstery. Maybe if I’d had a ghost roommate I would get some type of feedback, with the added bonus that the sad details of my solitary life wouldn’t ever be voiced out loud to anyone. That would be a positive as I hated the feeling that my need for a companion made me feel like a permanent wallflower.

There was only one thing left for me to do.

Taking a deep breath, as if I needed air in my lungs, I dialed her cell and slumped in my favorite chair. Let the mental beatings begin.

“‘Ello, dearie.” The chipper, baritone voice of my only true friend in the world came through the speaker.

“Christianna, did I call at a bad time?” I asked, silently hoping she was going to sleep with the six hour time difference between us.

“Nope. I’m between dates right now so I have the time to talk to my bestest friend,” she joked.

“Having fun in Madrid? I know it’s business trip but pleasure is never out of reach for you.”

“You know me,” she answered, chuckling to herself. Christianna was my opposite in everything but our similar strain of Vlad Syndrome. She was a petite blonde with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, a feisty spirit, and took bed partners like a sexual predator.

“I’d hate to interrupt a good seduction scene.” I laughed as I imagined her holding a man on the end of a chain as she answered the phone.

“You didn’t, but I know you didn’t call to live vicariously through my sex life, so what’s up chickadee?”

With a deep breath, I gathered what little courage I had left in the pit of my stomach. “You know we have the ball and the Halloween party plus the fact that I’m always without a date so I told the gang at the bar that I was currently seeing someone that would be my date at both events.”

Taking an unnecessary breath, I gave her a moment to take in all I had spewed at her.

“Wait. Miss Stay True actually lied through her pretty little fangs about dating a non-existent man who would have to appear like a trick from a magic show? Are you kidding me?” The laughter on the other end had me banging my head against my high backed chair.

"Yeah, yeah, it's hysterical. So, are you gonna help me or not?"

***

Lying Through Her Fangs - Part Two of my Paranormal Blog Book

Lying Through Her Fangs

Part Two

Where the hell was I going to get a man that could tolerate an evening of paranormal flamboyance, let alone the Halloween extravaganza that was thrown every year? I couldn’t get the best-suited man even if an ad was placed in the local newspaper. With my current path in the love department, I’d be lucky to get laid in the next three years and that was without compelling a man to see past the fangs. Well, that wasn’t completely true. I’d had offers, but from douchebags who thought they were God’s gift to fangs. That was the main reason for keeping to solitude and quick meals on the fly. None of them would thrill me enough to get a layer of sweat on my vampire tough skin. I wasn’t about to say I was on the ugly side of the coffin but I certainly wasn’t a sexual goddess who oozed pheromones with every twitch of my hips. As I was of Algerian descent, I had long, thick hair and an hourglass figure, great attributes to have if you were going to be stuck as an immortal. My height was a bit above average and olive undertones kept me from looking like a pale creature of the moon. Still, finding a man was a possibility but not one that would withstand the oddity that I called life.

Berating myself the whole way home, I decided to do some research on the internet for the best places to meet great guys but the plan would need to include a clandestine way of compelling this man to go out with me. Seriously, who wanted that type of relationship? Well, the plan had merits for this particular case and would leave no strings of attachment behind except him getting a nagging feeling that he'd met me before. The reality of this not being an easy feat brought me full circle to the previous advertisement idea, my front door was in front of me and I hadn’t paid attention to anything as I’d sulked the whole way back to my lonely house in historical downtown Decatur. After tossing my leather clutch on the side board, the Mary Janes were slipped off by the time I had the screen blazing on my fifteen inch laptop. Scoping sites, I accidentally looked up an escort service on purpose. Telling myself it was only research didn’t take away the icky feeling at paying someone to get me through a couple of lonely nights of embarrassment in front of colleagues and my few friends.

“Why did I lie to them in the first place? I’m a freaking idiot. All I had to do was fake a happy face and convince them that my going alone was more professional when attending work related events.”

Smacking my fingers onto the keyboard in annoyance, I yelped when moody elevator music came on for the site that I had engaged. The header was clean and to the point, with tabs of the services, information about the company, and personal biographies on the employees. Thank the heavens above the site didn’t give me more viruses than I could pick up from anyone at the local dance club. Luckily, the only virus I could catch was some hybrid strain of lycanthropy as my DNA was already genetically altered from the Vlad Syndrome I had been born with.

Without a risk of STDs, and the ability to compel anyone I want [to do XXX], sex should be more of an option.

“Why am I such a shrinking violet?” I asked the dust mites and leather upholstery. Maybe if I’d had a ghost roommate I would get some type of feedback, with the added bonus that the sad details of my solitary life wouldn’t ever be voiced out loud to anyone. That would be a positive as I hated the feeling that my need for a companion made me feel like a permanent wallflower.

There was only one thing left for me to do.

Taking a deep breath, as if I needed air in my lungs, I dialed her cell and slumped in my favorite chair. Let the mental beatings begin.

“‘Ello, dearie.” The chipper, baritone voice of my only true friend in the world came through the speaker.

“Christianna, did I call at a bad time?” I asked, silently hoping she was going to sleep with the six hour time difference between us.

“Nope. I’m between dates right now so I have the time to talk to my bestest friend,” she joked.

“Having fun in Madrid? I know it’s business trip but pleasure is never out of reach for you.”

“You know me,” she answered, chuckling to herself. Christianna was my opposite in everything but our similar strain of Vlad Syndrome. She was a petite blonde with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, a feisty spirit, and took bed partners like a sexual predator.

“I’d hate to interrupt a good seduction scene.” I laughed as I imagined her holding a man on the end of a chain as she answered the phone.

“You didn’t, but I know you didn’t call to live vicariously through my sex life, so what’s up chickadee?”

With a deep breath, I gathered what little courage I had left in the pit of my stomach. “You know we have the ball and the Halloween party plus the fact that I’m always without a date so I told the gang at the bar that I was currently seeing someone that would be my date at both events.”

Taking an unnecessary breath, I gave her a moment to take in all I had spewed at her.

“Wait. Miss Stay True actually lied through her pretty little fangs about dating a non-existent man who would have to appear like a trick from a magic show? Are you kidding me?” The laughter on the other end had me banging my head against my high backed chair.

"Yeah, yeah, it's hysterical. So, are you gonna help me or not?"

***