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It’s real.
I’ve gotten the vampire of my dreams, Vlad the Impaler himself.
Who could’ve guessed?
And just to think… it all started with a suitcase full of sex toys.
Epilogue
Vlad
Six months later, Iceland.
On our table is a plate of peculiar Icelandic delicacies, including fermented shark and soured ram testicles.
I’m not surprised that Fannychka has bravely tried a bite of every single thing here and liked it, even the poor ram’s nads—a dish I personally skipped. Out of, as she teasingly put it, “male solidarity.”
In the last six months, she’s become a connoisseur of delicacies from all around the globe—at least, the ones you can get in NYC, which is many.
She’s also a connoisseur of sexual acts, positions, and toys, much to my delight. If she ever gets tired of being a game developer, I bet she could write the next Kama Sutra.
This is our first official vacation, and she’s loved it thus far—though more thanks to the geothermal pools and the alien-planet landscapes rather than the Icelandic cuisine.
I keep my face neutral as I watch her drink her apple cider, though the sight of those scrumptious pink lips wrapped around the bottle drives me insane, as usual.
Does she have any clue what I’m about to do?
Maybe. Maybe not. You never know with this one. She can be deviously clever.
I scan our surroundings for clues.
The glass roof and walls of the restaurant create an uber-romantic ambience that could give me away. You can see city lights down the mountain, as well as the night sky above.
Also, we’re the only ones here, so she might rightfully deduce this is my doing and not the restaurant suffering from a lack of patrons.
Hopefully, the not-so-romantic food selection was a good-enough misdirection.
Now I just need the weather to cooperate. The forecast was good, but if not, there’s always tomorrow.
I want her to remember this forever.
So, I carry on a conversation as we eat, but I also wait for my moment.
As par for the course on such auspicious occasions, I can’t help but think back on some of the highlights of our time together.
When I saw her at that Starbucks, with her pale skin and black hair, she’d looked like she stepped out of the Underworld movies—ironic, considering all the vampire jokes she still makes at my expense.
I knew then and there that I wanted her, and I took a picture of her surreptitiously—another bit of irony considering she did the same to me with her app.
When she stepped into my office mere minutes later, she looked like I might eat her—cannibalistically—while the truth was that I wanted to devour her in a very different way, completely inappropriate for the office.
I tried to stay professional—not an easy task given the project on her plate—but then she contacted me with that toy emergency, and all my good intentions went out the window. I was shocked at the protective emotions she stirred up. A part of me knew most people would find her situation humorous, but I was way too worried about her getting hurt.
Things began to spiral even more when I took her to our first lunch and started to learn how much we had in common. By the time she told me she wanted to test the toys on some random guy, I wanted to rip him into shreds.
Then the testing started.
Dracula gets rock hard every time I think about that—including now. It’s a good thing I don’t need to get up anytime soon, else—
