Dance With A Vampire
A Gay Romance Short Story
Fabian Black
Copyright © Fabian Black 2013
All Rights Reserved
No part of this story may be copied or passed on in any way or by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Author Website
http://www.fabianblackromance.com/
Gay romance fiction
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This quirky and poetical little coming of age tale moves from a light-hearted beginning to something a little deeper that hints at a BDSM relationship.
It was inspired by George Michael's version of 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face' a beautiful song written by Ewan MacColl. It uses the song title as a door into the story.
A young man’s Halloween plans go askew when he’s refused admission to a nightclub by the club doorman.
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Dance With A Vampire
‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face…’
I wanted to thump it because you were blocking the entrance door to the Ebony Rose Club. My first time date, Dave, a tall vampire Goth complete with fangs (I was fervently hoping they’d be sunk into my neck at some point during the evening) had just gained admittance to the Halloween Ball being held there.
You claimed I looked underage and club policy was strict, admission to over twenty-ones only. I argued I was less than a day away from reaching that pinnacle and had the birth certificate about my person to prove it. Come midnight I would be of age and what was a few hours? You shook your head, saying, a rule was a rule and not to be flouted. ‘What kind of anally retentive twat are you?’ I asked cordially. You calmly replied you were the kind that anally retained rules.
I appealed to Dave hoping he’d demonstrate some real vampire traits and drain away all your lifeblood so I could step delicately over your body and go to the ball after all. He didn’t. He shrugged, gave me a quick kiss and said ‘see you around, babe.’ He then promptly attached himself to a romantic lady Goth with flowing hair and a pale pallor suggestive of already having given one pint of blood too much. I made a mental note never to date a bisexual again. It doubled the chances of being dumped.
In the spirit of petty revenge I chose to hang around outside the club until midnight struck and I attained the mystical age that would gain me entrance, and the possibility of reclaiming the one I lusted after from his pale corpse bride.
You carried on vetting the punters, allowing some in and turning away others. I kept up a running and insulting personal commentary, but you ignored me with magnificent aplomb. It made me all the more determined to get under your skin, preferably the skin covering the area where your heart was housed, if you had one, so I could carve it out for losing me my chance to dance with a sexy vampire.
The witching hour struck and I triumphantly demanded rite of passage. I was of age and met all dress code requirements. Pushing up the sleeve of your pristine white shirt you glanced at your watch, pulled out the button and turned the hands back, saying daylight saving had just come into effect. I still had an hour to wait and why didn’t I wait quietly like a good little Goth boy.
