Their OTHER reason they stay.

I come from an age when adulthood was dictated by what one did. The Harper’s Weekly dated 8 November 1862 had an article about John W. Packham, age 13, who was the youngest corporal in the Union army. He was part of an escort for Union ambulances, when the caravan rounded a hill and found 2,000 Rebel soldiers. Well, Johnny Reb demanded he come over and talk to them, and when he openly refused, one of the Rebels shot and shattered the boy’s kneecap.

My apologies…They shot and shattered the man’s kneecap. Only by chronology and physical stature was he a boy. By any other standard, he was a man.

(As an historical note, we had the habit of referring to the Rebels as "Johnny Reb," while they called us "Billy Yank." You will also note that the above-mentioned article occurred prior to my being embraced, thus making it a fond memory of my mortal past. I didn't know that young soldier, but I swelled with pride when I read the article.)

To this day, Orthodox Jews deem a boy to be a man at age 13, and celebrate this coming of age with a religious ceremony called a bar mitzvah. Due to the complications in the division of Church and State, it takes the consent of the 13-year-old’s parents so he can be married. Married and, by G-d’s command as per the Old Testament, becoming fruitful and prosperous. Of course, this man must be able to provide for his family, so it is preferred that he have a complete education before being wed and fathering children, but marriage today at such an age is not impossible.

The changes in the law and morals of society often make me wonder where mankind is heading. Common sense seems to have fled, if it hasn't already died. Honestly! How absurd is it that a school nurse must get parental consent to administer an aspirin, but is bound by confidentiality when a pregnant teen comes to the same nurse asking for a reference for an abortion?

I am mentioning all of the above so that I don’t receive thousands of e-mails decrying me as some kind of pervert. My unlife as a vampyre is perverse enough. You need not point out the obvious, nor decry that which you do not fully grasp.

When one becomes a vampyre, there is a 50/50 chance of gaining what might best be proclaimed a “side effect” of feeding. I am one of the lucky ones. When I feed, my victims experience a sense of euphoria unlike anything in their lives. “Pleasure” is too weak a word to encompass what they feel. During my entire existence as a creature of the night, it has been a common occurrence to see someone I’ve fed off to stand on quaking legs, breathing hard.

Enter my dilemma. With sexual promiscuity having reached all-time highs in this day and age, I honestly had no idea how I was to keep my pair of virgins past their 18th year. Since they're both so attractive, I doubted they’d remain virgins for more than a year or two, and then I’d lose them as a potent source of energy. The reminders posted on their mirrors could not possible withhold the cutting threads of Fate, which are more akin to razor wire.

This brings us to this evening. The girls had been in the pool earlier. When I arrived, they were both clad in bikinis. To be clear, Tina was wearing an outfit of light blue that, had I been her true father, I would have denounced as little more than a few patches of cloth that were pasted to her flesh and demand she put some clothes on. But as I've said, perceptions have changed, and the young are seemingly permitted to wear such garments as they will. It was her turn to be my “breakfast,” and I beckoned to her. She looked a little startled and asked if I would give her a moment. With no understanding of what she had in mind, she retired to her bedroom and returned wearing a pair of jeans over her bikini bottoms. Now I was completely baffled.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear the explanation for this, my little minx,” I said with a lopsided smile. “Why, pray tell, do you require a pair of jeans for me to feed?”

Being of lighter skin than Shay, she blushed furiously and looked quickly to her housemate.

Shay had both hands up and was slowly shaking her head. “Don’t look at me, girl. You’re the one who got busted with the wrong clothes on.”

Tina’s eyes flicked from Shay, to me, and back to Shay. “Should I…” Tina hesitated.

Shay shook her head once more. “We’re both busted, thank you very much. You might as well stop holding back.”

I cleared my throat to regain their full attention. “Would you mind letting me in on the grand secret? What is it you’ve been holding back?”

But Tina was already moving her long, dark hair out of the way, exposing the right side of her neck, and moving toward me. “You’ll see,” she muttered, suddenly shy and embarrassed.

With a mental shrug, I extended my upper canines and sank them smoothly into her tender young flesh. This time, instead of being lost in the sensations that move through me when I ingest virgin blood, I paid a bit more attention to what was happening to Tina. The pulse in her throat was skyrocketing. My hands were on her smooth shoulders, and I could feel her muscles quivering beneath her skin. Just as I was taking in the last of the pint I usually withdraw, (yes, we can make a fair guess at how much blood we're ingesting), her entire body experienced paroxysms of ecstasy, and she cried out, “Oh my G-d!” Then she slipped from my hands and collapsed to the floor, gasping and laughing as she landed.

I stood there, shocked. So shocked, in fact, that I only managed to detract one tooth, making me look a bit comical, which had Shay laughing. “Did you…Did you just…,” was all I could muster verbally. I did manage to get the other canine back where it belonged, but my expression of utter astonishment could not be erased, which had Shay grinning quite devilishly.

Tina’s face was like a crimson bulb as she joked, “You’re the best I’ve never had, ‘daddy.’”

Let us pause a moment to rationalize this…Or try to, at any rate. We have two girls with little or no experience when it comes to sex. When I caught the sweet scent of innocence on them, I was not going to start asking if they’d committed one sexual act or another. I knew that the mystic bond of their physical innocence was intact, and my mind was on one, and only one thing: that they are and remain virgins. Add to their inexperience the power embedded as a side effect of my feedings, and…

On my side of this carnal line is my ignorance. The only thing that could ruin the blood of a virgin was alcohol or drugs. And to a vampyre, virgin blood is a drug unto itself. Discounting the years I was mortal, and those spent in a healing slumber, I have spent approximately 119 years hoping to stumble upon that rare virgin (that was not a true child) and feed. When I did, I was too far gone in my own form of rapture to pay an ounce of attention to my victims. Just a quick lick of the neck to conceal the punctures, and I was on my way.

Had I spent the 119 conscious years of my vampyric existence leaving a trail of sexually satisfied virgins in my wake?!?

A discussion followed as Tina recovered. I put a swift end to calling me "daddy." Yes, even I have certain limits when it comes to such things, despite living a life of deception and murder. The jeans, it turns out, were to hide - How to put this delicately? - the specifics of Tina's reaction to climaxing. (It is a function of her physiology, dear readers, and not to be the cause of any kind of commotion.) Being young and inexperienced in oh so many things, it had not occurred to her that I would question her desire to hide her bikini.

Our chat quelled my fears that they would run off with whomever and commit some act that would ruin my source of nourishment. Without the intent of doing so, I was already providing them with sexual satisfaction without so much as an enticing kiss.

With this odd little post, I must confess that I’m sorely tempted to go back to my post about vampyre abilities and edit in a new one.