Oh goodness – sometimes I have a LOT of fun writing. I dreamt up a niche genre the other day – one I’m almost pretty sure doesn’t exist – and now the idea is taking on arms and legs. The niche was plus-size vampire erotica. For the purposes of limiting offence potential, what you read here is more likely described as plus-size vampire romance. For chapter one, click here.
Say what you like about The Firm, but the clothes were amazing.
Gregor had always been a fan of fine tailoring and the Savile Row suit he was currently wearing was an incredible example. The tux fitted him perfectly – the material of the trousers slim fitting enough to outline impressive quads, while the jacket looked as if it had been made for him.
It reached his hips, falling in a way that you could only describe as luxuriantly draping. The arm seams were in perfect alignment with his shoulders so that the jacket moved seamlessly with him.
The bow tie, naturally enough, was dangling untied and his thick dark hair ruffled where he’d run his fingers through it. That finger ruffle had been unscripted, but Liza the director had been so charmed by the gesture – it drew attention to those dark brown eyes and gave him an air of slight vulnerability as well as added sincerity – that it had been kept in.
“Good job!” she said as she moved forward. Gregor had removed his jacket – the fearsome heat of the lighting had given him a sheen that fortunately only enhanced his appearance on the film, but he did look decidedly uncomfortable now.
“You’ll no’ need a second take then?” he asked and Liza shook her head firmly.
“No need – you were perfect. Have you ever considered a career in –”
Gregor shook his head firmly this time, anticipating the question before it came.
“The Firm keeps me busy,” he said, imbibing the answer with the tiniest bit of regret so that Liza didn’t feel dismissed. Or as if her question had been asked countless times before.
“Pity,” she said. “You’re a natural in front of the camera. And that’s always much more difficult when you’re trying to tell people a message or sell them something.”
He smiled back at her. “Thanks. Hopefully ma bosses will like the piece. They can be hard to please though. Think they’ll let me keep the penguin suit?”
“Hope so!” Liza said. She’d had nothing to do with the props or costumes for this particular piece of film. The instructions and direction from The Firm had been very clear and precise. Normally Liza didn’t tolerate heavy-handedness on the part of the client – creative freedom and all that – but The Firm paid generously and on time.
As her sound director put it, “think of us as a fish and chip shop Liza. If a very rich client comes in and says they want fish and deep-fried marshmallows, fish and deep-fried marshmallows it is”. Or on this occasion – a detailed 10-page instruction manual on the precise look and feel of the advertisement.
“What’s the ad being used for – The Firm didn’t specify the audience?” she asked, curious about this little omission as they had been so specific about everything else.
Gregor shrugged, his eyes not quite meeting hers. “Ach some campaign they have coming up ah think. Ah’m no’ entirely sure.”
His accent, combined with that gorgeous face and body, was another deal-sealer for Liza. She knew it was a cliché, but she did love a Scottish accent. Gregor’s was perfect – his inflections rising at the end of sentences so sometimes a lot of what he said sounded like a question. He rolled his Rs beautifully, often said “ah” instead of “I” and never said small, preferring “wee”, a word that was much more descriptive and could be used for all kinds of purposes.
Gregor looked as if he was now hanging back politely. She could see the tiny almost imperceptible tap of his foot. Clearly, he was a man who had a lot to do.
“Do you need to go?” she asked and he jolted slightly – caught out by body language communication.
“Well, aye and no,” he said. “Ah’ve been working really hard lately and Ah feel like I’m due a wee rest.” She could see some kind of thought process going on behind those eyes, and he suddenly smiled at her – a great beam that showed off straight white teeth, a dimple on one cheek and the fanning of fine lines round those dark eyes.
Flip, it was powerful. Liza, having worked with many beautiful people over the years, counted herself immune to many of their charms. Physical beauty often disguised rampant insecurity. When you valued yourself according to your physical worth, Liza’s mother had always told her, you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of unhappiness.
Liza, preferring not to entangle herself in the mess of someone’s fucked up ego and/or eating disorder/gym obsession/sun avoiding/expensive skin cream purchasing/Botox, fillers and plastic surgery mess, generally steered clear of the beautiful people.
Gregor though… as the seconds ticked by, she could feel her resolve slipping.
“And what would your ‘wee’ rest involve?”
He gave her a shy smile – oh yikes, yikes, yikes – and shrugged lightly, the movement causing his jacket held by one finger over a shoulder to ripple, sending out waves of whatever aftershave he had been wearing. Pine. Wood smoke and undercut with something very musky.
“Well, hen,” and he smiled at her again, as if checking out the effect the little endearment had on her. “Ah think ah probably need to lie down.”
By now, the studio was deserted. The others had slipped out minutes ago after she’d called “cut”, and the two of them had the place to themselves. There were no couches, sofas or beds in there was Liza’s first thought – one she chided herself for immediately. What was she? Middle-aged now?
Gregor had picked up her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing it and winking at her at the same time.
Oh, who needed beds?
“You were supposed to be here three hours ago! The shoot finished at 5.30pm. I checked with the studio.”
His reception later that evening was proving frosty so far.
When it came to The Director, it was always wise never to explain or apologise.
“It did,” he confirmed and then pulled up a chair in front of her.
“The film’s finished. They don’t need any more footage of you. The studio called and said it was a wrap.” The Director prided herself on her grasp of the modern vernacular. Gregor could hear her air quotes round the word wrap and it amused him. He smiled fondly at her.
“Oh. You didn’t,” she sighed. It was a statement, rather than a question. Some years ago, he and The Director had enjoyed a… well, romance was too strong a term for it, and fling sounded juvenile. Flirtation that went too far one evening then? He’d have taken it further too, but The Director had remembered her professionalism at the last minute and drawn back from the situation. She now looked on his dalliances with older sister fondness, mingled in with a tiny bit of jealous frustration.
He shrugged and looked bashful and she glared at him.
“And don’t try that shy routine with me. I’m immune! Anyway, we’re not here to discuss your love life – there’s a situation developing on the west coast that needs sorting out.”
She turned the screen of her computer to face him. On it, were emails from an agent called Sasha he’d worked with before. He skimmed through the first one and pushed the screen back.
“OK – Ah’ve read the first email. Ah’ve got the gist. Three dead bodies. Bite marks and reports of two female vampires.”
The Director nodded. “One we have come across before – the other’s a new one. She’s rather unusual for a vampire, according to the witnesses Sasha talked to.”
The Director handed him print-outs of Sasha’s report from an eye witness. Vampire number two had stood out for a couple of reasons. Firstly, she’d been wearing the most amazing clothes – a corset, pantaloons, stiletto boots and a wrap cardigan. The witness, despite his extreme fear, went into a lot of detail about the clothing and the cardigan that propped up very generous breasts.
Secondly, the vampire had been a large lady – Jessica Rabbit scale curves but multiplied. She’d captured the attention of the room and the three victims, who’d been so transfixed they hadn’t realised the danger they were in until it was too late.
“Are the local police involved?” Gregor asked and The Director shook her head.
“No thankfully. Sasha moved in as soon as she got word and has assured them it’s a case for The Firm. But there were complaints – that we’ve got complacent, this shouldn’t have happened. They’re only innocent civilians blah blah blah.”
Gregor got up from his seat and moved over to the window. The Director had the best office in the building. Up on the third floor, the bay window looked out over a magnificent garden. It wasn’t overly pruned and cultivated. Gregor didn’t like that look when it came to gardens, feeling it was arrogant of humans to try to impose too much order on nature – but it was pretty. Lawns stretched from here as far as the eyes could see and the meadows were dotted with wild flowers. Shrubs and bushes lined paths and a maze which was incredibly easy to get lost in, and a walled garden could be viewed to the left as you looked down.
No doubt that walled garden was growing more than its fair share of garlic.
“Cannae blame them,” he said. Confronted with the realities of vampire attack, it was no wonder the police felt aggrieved. The Firm were meant to deal with vampires and keep the population safe, freeing up the police to deal with common or garden murderers, theft and riots.
“No,” she said. “I don’t. I do blame a few people though – and that includes you.”
“Me?” Gregor turned back to The Director. His question sounded genuinely curious, rather than aggrieved.
The Director regarded him beadily.
“You’d still be in the west country if you hadn’t alienated Sasha by having an affair with her. You know damn well you’re my best agent and I try to deploy you in the riskiest places – and the west coast has been risky for a few years now. But you can’t help yourself. You flirt with Sasha, she falls in love with you, you go off her, she reacts to the rejection and here we are. Three people dead, the population once more in fear and questions being asked about our effectiveness AND our funding.”
Gregor shrugged – and tried to look a little contrite. He felt it best to remain silent, though. Never explain. Never apologise.
“Luckily for you – and the people of the west coast, I suppose, Sasha has agreed to put her grievances behind her. I want you to head down there tomorrow.”
He nodded. Truth to tell he was bored. Making corporate videos for The Firm had its compensations – ahem – but it had been a few months since he’d worked on a proper case. Seeking and destroying vampires was what he did best. It was all he had ever wanted to do. And when he’d left the west coast months ago, he’d left one case unresolved. The lack of resolution had nagged him ever since. He hated loose ends and he hated the feeling that a vampire had bested him.
Cordelia had definitely bested him.
He sat down in front of The Director once more and she pushed across a folder full of the print-outs of the reports Sasha had sent through.
“There’s one other thing about this case,” The Director said. He glanced up, noting that she looked disconcerted.
“This one eats.”
As his look of incomprehension – well, yes of course they eat, human blood sucked out of the neck and most usually their form of eating leaves their victims dead because they can’t stop once they have started – The Director pushed across photos. It took him a few seconds to make sense of what he was seeing in front of him.
The picture showed tables – what looked like those fold-down tables used at bake sales and picnics, and displayed on them were cakes, pastries, biscuits, pies, puddings and more. Two tables, however, had been decimated. There was an empty cake stand with crumbs and a few blobs of cream left on it. A three-tier chocolate cake appeared to have had great chunks ripped out of it. Opened plastic bags spilled out a solitary biscuit or bake and a large Bakewell tart tin had only a slice or so remaining.
The Director cut him off. “I know, I know – I’ve checked this over several times with Sasha. She couldn’t believe it either at first, but it definitely seems to be true. The cake sale had only just started when the vampire attack took place. Three people died as we have learned. The people inside the hall fled and notified the local police who then called us.
“The hall was surrounded as soon as possible and no-one was caught leaving. Everyone in the village was interviewed afterwards and not one of them went back into that hall. They didn’t dare – they were absolutely terrified.”
“Ah’ve never heard of this before – a vampire eating human food,” Gregor’s interest was now fully piqued.
“I’ve got our best researchers working on it,” The Director said. “We’ve sent out inquiries all over the globe trying to see if we can find evidence of any vampire who also eats human food. Most of our initial inquiries have come back so far with the same kind of incredulity that you and I have just shown. A vampire that eats human food. Unreal!”
As vampire hunters, the two of them took a moment to enjoy the irony of that particular word.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” The Director said. “We need her taken alive. She’s too unusual to do anything else with and we’ll need to study her and find out where she came from and how she became a vampire.”
Gregor grinned widely. While he was without a doubt an experienced vampire killer and very, very good at it, taking one alive demanded a completely different skill set. It was ultimately much more challenging and all the more satisfying for being so.
The Director suddenly burst out laughing. She wasn’t someone who laughed often – vampire hunting and keeping in control of recalcitrant agents was serious business after all – but the unexpected sound was delightful. A full-blown cackle that left her red-faced and tears pouring down her cheeks.
“Oh, Gre-Gre-Gregor,” she said finally, having summoned back control of herself. “You might well need to learn to bake! Shall we summon Mary Berry?”
Pic thanks to Reuben Harvey at Deviant Art.
Plus-sized, victoria sponge-eating vampires… don’t you think this website should have one of those log-in pages with an “ADULT CONTENT” warning and you have to declare you’re over 18? (Presumably an open invitation to any fourteen-year-old to click the ‘Yes’ button.)
Not necessary so far because I’ve been keeping it clean deliberately… this is the plus-sized vampire romance version!
Can’t wait to read the not-so-clean version…