Through the blue haze of cigarette smoke, Ignatius approached holding a lurid green martini in a long thin hand. “Sip?” He offered his drink to Randall who held up a hand but did not make eye contact.

“Why the hell are you spending money on martinis?  I thought vampires didn’t drink.”

“Language, Mr. Kinney.” Ignatius brought his drink to his nose and sniffed luxuriously.  “Oh, we have our ways, don’t we?” He looked down, and ran his hands in circles on the coat. Randall thought he looked embarrassed, which stood to reason. After all, there was only one way for someone like him to taste alcohol, and that was when it was dissolved in the one thing they drink. Ignatius changed the subject. “Once, I tried freezing absinthe in an ice cube tray, just to taste it one more time.” He sighed wistfully.

“Did it work?” Randall found himself asking, though he was furious with himself for doing so.

Ignatius stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. “No.” He pointed to his mouth. “Won’t melt.”

The band began to play. The song was slow, passionate and mournful. Their signature song. People sidled onto the dance floor and began to move sensuously, their arms twisting above their heads, or wrapped around the asses of their dance partners, their faces thrown back with expressions of delight mixed with grief. Later, Randall knew, the songs would slowly speed up, become louder, more raucous and rhythmic, until climaxing at the end with frenzied screaming.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)