The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

NSFW, this is my first attempt at the story.


***

"The occult?"

Aubrey sipped her coffee.

"Yeah," Savannah got out, around a mouthful of ice cream, "that's what Daniel's latest piece is about."

"Huh, he didn't strike me as the type for that nonsensical drivel."

Daniel left Margot's office, shutting the door quietly.

"It is only 'nonsensical drivel' if you see it at face value. How do you believe religion gained popularity? It has occult roots."

"Ah, I ought to try and see things from different perspectives. Oh! And, I apologise for bumping into you. It was careless, I almost ruined your lovely pressed shirt."

The man's eyes studied her, Aubrey felt like she was looking up at the sky, the purest Summer sky, not a cloud to be seen.

"It is of no matter, Ms Dawkins."

"Aubrey, please. I trust you've been acquainted with Savannah Pierce."

The receptionist masked a squeak as he acknowledged her. A head tip sent her into overdrive, hormonal youth obvious.

Aubrey tried to look oblivious, acting her socks off, giving the liquid in the cup her full attention. Daniel perked up, thumbing his chin.

"Miss Pierce, whilst I find your squeals rather charming, I think undertones lie beneath, and I must stress, with the utmost respect that I am far too old for your eyes to look upon in such a manner."

Blond hair fell forward, bright green eyes downcast. A small pink pout was all her fellows could see.

"Aubrey isn't".

She muttered. The secretary didn't bother to hide her reaction, the blond shrinking back from its intensity.

"Charming. I would never have put you at my age, Daniel. I'd have said older, respectfully, of course. Distinguished, without lines. I ought to ask your beauty regime. I, too, wish to keep premature ageing at bay."

Daniel's off-putting chipper attitude put her on edge.

"Its, not quite what apothecaries sell. As old as time."

Savannah squinted, mouth an odd angle.

"What, like, lead face dust?"

"I believe you mean powder, and, lead is toxic. I wouldn't put that anywhere near me. I have encountered women who still use that. It only made them very ill, not in any way beautifying them. It made their skin sallow. Ill advised."

Aubrey seconded that.

"Us 'old people...'"

Daniel's hazy blues sparkled with mirth, working jaw amused.

"Speak for yourself. 'Distinguished,' I believe is the term you used?"

The secretary rolled her eyes.

"Us 'distinguished' oldies know that lead is terrible for you. Women did horrible things in order to be viewed by the male of the species as 'worthy'."

"They were worthy," the 'male' corrected, "men did not ask for them to poison themselves, wilting flowers, perishing before their thirtieth year. None I know of wanted that."

His face hardened.

"It is today that men appear to think women nothing more than objects. Disgraceful, is what that is."

Aubrey, again agreed.

"Don't have to tell me twice. I encounter that every time I foray into the 'dating world.' That, and," she nudged Savannah's shoulder, eyes wistful, with a hint of mocking, "as my oh so lovely young colleague pointed out, as I am, indeed old, men see me rather as a fossil than a worthy partner."

The younger couldn't resist.

"Adversary, more like. You're single not because you're 'old.' Its because you give off bitter, and no man wants bitter in his mouth."

"Neither do women, but men insist they rather like it."

Loud giggles erupted from the receptionist.

"Rather be a fossil than someone who laughs at a blow job joke."

Daniel chirped quizzically, fingers musing his beard.

"And I would rather be an old fashioned historian, who treats women with respect, than shove sour verbatim down their throats, throw them out and call it a night."

The women howled, Daniel's quiet chuckles drowned out.

***

"Uber for one."

Aubrey held her stomach, the onset of hiccups irritating her.

"Oh, please. Only rich people use that, or people so drunk, they don't care they are getting ripped off. Good old cabbies, I say. They spend years learning all roads, routes and traffic patterns. They don't do that, just to be replaced by a robotic woman, nagging them. That's all they need. Front passenger seat driver."

"Uber for one, to the Natural History Museum! Ready an exhibit! We got another find! The rare, lesser spotted Grandma. We call her, 'Aubrey.'"

Aubrey grinned, pointing at herself with her thumbs.

"They'd better put me in the front lobby, so the public can see all my craggy glory."

Savannah grimaced.

"Yeah! Put Daniel in the library too."

"Yes, put him there. By craggy bits, I mean nude. Can't have Mr Hurst seeing that, not after meeting me alive."

Savannah's mouth dropped.

"Yeah, spare him that indecency. Forgive that, Daniel, that idea may never leave your mind now. Yikes."

***

Daniel's features said little in response.

"I don't know, its been a while since I saw a woman's form."

The blond couldn't comprehend that.

"You're single? Like, what? How in the fuck are YOU single?"

Grey eyes shot her a look.

"Sav, not everyone wishes to be in a relationship. Some thrive being single."

A twinge of irony snapped, twisting its lance around her heart.

She didn't thrive being single.

She practically died.

But, she'd only want someone for the extra income, not for mush. Never for mush. Gushing, public displays of affection and fucking behind clubs was for people Savannah's age. Not HER age.

She would die from shame there...

***

"Wait. There was a time you WEREN'T single?"

The blond teased. Aubrey snapped to reality.

"Yeah. Dave. We were together for eight years. Decent fella. Funny, witty, annoyed me beyond anything or anyone else though."

"Why'dya split then?"

Wistful, the secretary looked back.

"We fell out of love."

She looked at Daniel, question left unanswered.

"Ah, the subject of relations. I find myself unable to answer the question of why. Merely unable to meet someone that values themselves, other than their appearance. I much prefer integrity to 'I must look like a doll at all times' I cannot let men see my true face.'"

"You won't find anyone then. Women are more concerned with their outward appearance than bothering to have a decent internal outlook."

***

Savannah said something next that made Aubrey want to smack herself with her palm until she fell unconscious.

"Aubrey isn't like that, though, her insides are just as caustic as her visage."

"Hey! I'd rather be honest than paint myself as 'Barbie's Mum,' trying to look like her equally attractive 'older sister'."

Daniel shook his head.

"If I wanted fake, I would acquire fake. Someone who believes she is worth something other than vanity is a plus. Don't date younger, I found out the hard way that the younger generation care more for their hair and having nails akin to the avian species than having something between their ears." He tipped his head. "Other than you, Savannah. You aren't the sort."

Pearly doe greens made a reappearance, as Savannah gushed. He sounded like Hugh Grant, but with a hint of suave roughness. Like he smoked for a few decades, but his body showed no signs of the damage the toxins caused.

***

"My mates are though. Its like they have no morals, self control has gone. They drag home idiots, then complain they are idiots the next morning when he's left them, all smug with himself cause he got off. Half the time, the guys don't even get them off. Like, how rude."

Aubrey had given up trying to cease the receptionist's lewd talk. She joined in instead.

"Oh no. Not having any of that. If a guy refuses to help me out, he's not putting his genitals anywhere near a hole. Any need to be a lazy, selfish bastard? No. Had that once, never again." She shivered. "Ended up counting the cracks in the damn ceiling, including the massive one above me, 'attempting' intercourse. That's how bored I was. If I want a moron flopping about, then snoring two seconds later, I know who to call. Also, I don't date younger either. No to man-children with silly haircuts. Its called dating, not babysitting."

Daniel laughed, clearly entertained.

"Indeed. When people say they need to reign someone in, I doubt highly they mean literal child reigns." He glanced at the clock. "I ought to be leaving. Books to sort, life to attend too."

Savannah tilted her head.

"Isn't that a bit dull? Well thumbed backs, pages torn, and that mouldy page smell?"

"That, my dear, is merely the surface. Underneath that? I've found tomes thought long lost, diaries, photo books, rare poetry volumes and manuscripts. Dusty notwithstanding."

"I'd love to visit sometime. Peruse the shelves, imagining just how many unknown authors have their works there, who reads them, etc."

Aubrey said this aloud, unaware that she had. Daniel replying to her thought jolted her.

"You'd be welcome too. And you, Miss Pierce, despite your incorrect analogy."

Savannah squealed, not for the prospect of reading, but being alone, in a large, darkened space with an older man sounded like fun to her.

Aubrey, on the other hand felt bewilderment...

***

"Between ten and three."

Daniel handed Savannah two cards from his waistcoat pocket. She took one eagerly, stuffing it under her blouse, between her breasts. Daniel looked away, coughing, offering the other to the older woman. She was still in a daze, so, Daniel took initiative, glancing around for something he could talk to her about.

When he saw a copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion, he perked up.

"Romantic comedies? I took you for trials and tribulations. A Bleak House type, if you will."

Aubrey shot back, immediate smile on the man's face cue for Savannah to slip out of the room. She'd gotten the hint the two were about to converse on something she knew sod all about.

"I'd much rather Jane Austen than that particular Charles Dickens novel. That's the ninth instalment, my eyes would be in the back of my skull after reading all of them, one after the other. That, and the classics far outweigh most modern attempts at 'romance.' Fifty Shades, for example. That's rape, severe abuse and yet, women ate it up. We accuse men of being base, and yet, it was the 'fairer' sex that gobbled up that incessant babble. Sorry," she paused her rant mid-way through, "that word isn't a nice one. Neither of them are, to be honest."

She looked out the window, biting the skin of her gum in frustration. Also, worry, which surprised her. She grew anxious that the man would think her some inane, crazy talking witch, who's mouth spat out more profanities than a hyperactive teenager, trying to look 'hard' in front of their mates...

***

"You're correct in that assessment. I avoid anything of the sort that suggests women are objects. No gender is, no sexuality should be demonised, no one should be treated terribly. Abhorrent vernacular has my mouth threaten to spit coffee all over precious, old volumes. I couldn't do that, not to them. Not to Dickens, Bronte, Austen, Poe, Kafka, Freud. The greats must be preserved, the rest used as fodder for bonfires and hearths."

Aubrey found herself grinning.

"Get you and your 'Guy Fawkes'esque talk. Revolution is nigh! Nigh on impossible, but, I digress. I will come and visit the library. Perhaps this weekend."

Blue eyes twinkled, the woman unable to work out what was causing it.

"Excellent."

She took the card from the man's hand before he could extend it.

"Something to do. Ending up a freezing, rotting corpse in my hovel," she corrected sourly, "I mean, my flat isn't what I would call an 'interesting' weekend. Not that I could speak, if I was dead and all."

Daniel's inquiry teased, more than just her mind.

"Dare say I'm shocked! I thought you'd go out, 'clubbing' as the younger generations call it. Tear up the dance floor." He pursed his lips. "Am I really uttering this drivel?"

Aubrey dared to put the back of her hand against the man's forehead.

"Have you malfunctioned or something? Where's 'oh so eloquent' Daniel gone? On a dance floor somewhere, Dad dancing to ABBA?" She spared him a cheeky smirk. "Probable."

Daniel mimed comedy 'haw haws.'

"I did say I like classics, and ABBA are, indeed. However, you shall not see me in sequined 'disco pants' and neon stacked platforms any time soon."

Aubrey shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know. The seventies look is in vogue now, you know. See? I might dress like an eighty year old bag lady, but I do know something of fashion. All you need is a porn 'tash and an oversized pair of sunglasses."

Daniel smirked, tipping his head before heading for the door.

"I do believe you've just inquired of a date. I'll ponder on that."

As he opened the stairwell door, Aubrey ran up to it, ignoring that she almost tripped.

"If I wanted a date, I'd ask you outright."

Daniel stopped on the landing.

"And is this you asking outright?"

Aubrey scoffed, not showing that she registered a distinct knot in her lower abdomen. She squirmed, praying to David Bowie that the man hadn't picked that up.

"Please. If I wanted to date a man with a stick so far rammed up his own arse, it pokes out from his mouth, I would. Take your stick elsewhere," her suggestion garnered a laugh, "use it as kindling. Save on the books. Those poor, poor books."

The secretary didn't dare look back, lest she go flying, or die from Daniel laughing at her...