(4) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir

Bloody but unbowed as they say. And two less bastard Vampyres on the planet.

Washing up. Going hunting again. This time for a bed partner—male or female. 

I stroll the streets of the Quarter heading towards Bourbon. Tourist babes. Dressed in next to nothing. Same with some of the guys. Eyeing me like I was prime rib ready for the eating. Not what I’m looking for.

Stroll by the skin joints on Bourbon. Cheap ass sluts flaunting their wares. Short shorts too tight, tops barely covering what they think are their assets. Drunk men trying to hook up with them. Almost drooling. Catch the eye of one I made it with a month or so ago. She winks. I shake my head. Talk about overpriced, used piece of flesh. Once was more than enough.

Decide maybe what I want is a plain girl bed partner this time. I like them. They appreciate it more. Don’t seem to want anything but to feel like they have some worth for at least an evening. Smiling wryly to myself. Makes us two of a kind I guess. Note to self, screw that. I’m worth ten times any screwed up chick. I do something with my life besides spread my legs for any man willing to fuck me. OK, that didn’t sound quite how I meant it because I'm into men, too, but…

Back to the hunt. See a chick dead ahead. With a couple of her friends who are hanging on the arms of strutting males. She looks…lonely. The homely one. Stuck as a fifth-wheel now. They hit the next bar, order drinks. Then the couples take to the dance floor.

I slide into the empty seat next to Miss Plain Jane. Intro myself. Get her name. Begin the seduction. She’s shy, skeptical. Touch her arm. Stroke her shoulder. Whisper in her ear. Score. She comes with me. Still unbelieving that I chose her. But willing.

I treat her good. Fuck her soundly. Make sure she enjoys it. Her night to remember in New Orleans. Kiss her soundly come morning and send her on her way.