To kill a vampire

I have come to believe that a life lived without the allowance for regret is a life half lived; poor in its abundance of calculation and constrained by inhibition. We weather all our indiscretions. For there is glory in demise, in that we can say: at least we have taken the risk, and tasted either infinite reward or the blood of our own tears. And when the storm is over we discover that it has nourished us. We ripen in the glow. A white daisy may fall to the ground, but in the selfsame place, from the life it left in the soil, a red tulip may grow.

If it wasn’t bad enough that last week I had broken the sacred code of voyeurs by giving my card to Sherine as I left Pandora’s, inviting the possibility of a face to face meeting, this weekend I kissed the Son of Lightning. Well, ‘kissed’ is a great understatement. And indeed, his name does him justice. Now, however, I know his real name; Warwick.

The evening was full and fat with decadence. Four juicy encounters with four different men later, I drove home with satisfaction dripping from my chin. First came Roen in James Velvet, whom I almost ignored as he was being introduced to me, until I looked up into his gorgeous smile. I happily forgave the match-makers for trying to set me up with this good looking Jewish boy (sorry, man) whose eyes made me swoon like I did for Martin, my long lost "ex". His eyes, like the shades of Venetian blinds, emit just the teeth of the sun’s smile.

But being the riotous wild horse that I am, quick to buck at even the scent of captivity, I disappeared suddenly when I saw that "the mother of my children" look in his eyes. That’s when I decided that a change of venue was in order. I could feel Pandora’s Piano Lounge pining for me. It was then that Warwick and I, quite unexpectedly, got better acquainted with each other on top of the speaker. It was an expertly scandalous encounter. And just as I started feeling restless he bid me adieu to go to the Sperminator Rave. Timing is everything.

Exhausted I collapsed at the top of the stairs overlooking the dance floor. The crowd was energetic; gleaming with anticipation. Across the expanse of gyrating bodies a women danced topless on my speaker. I wasn’t phased by her show, but quite put out by her taking my ‘gyro-box’. Then just as I started relaxing, relieve not to have the attention of all the misplaced straight men in this gay palace of pleasure, Mr. Pick-up Line noticed me from the bar. He was directly below me looking up. Boyishly self-assured he offered, "What can I get you?"

"A blowjob," I said without thinking. I was bored with him from the start despite the fact that he was quite a fine specimen. I decided, however, to tantalise him like a cat playing with its prey. I needed some live, wriggling entertainment.

"I hope to God you’re straight, Baby!" he said fizzing like a glass of Eno. Or should that be frothing? This was just the opening I needed to start my game…

"I like a bit of both…" I said deeply sultry yet dispassionately and without looking at him.

"B.i.s.e.x.u.a.l…" he sang out of tune.

I sighed. "For the need of a label, yes. But I’m not really one for labels. I simply know that I enjoy intimacy with both men and women. And if that makes me bisexual in your eyes and in the eyes of people around me then sure. I see it as having my cake and eating it." I replied with the grace of a snake.

"So what are you tonight?" he came again.

I resisted the first reply that came to mind, ‘ an alien from outer-space’, but instead hummed, "Well, that depends on whom I’m speaking to, or dancing with or drinking with… or kissing. Tonight is a bit of a stir-fry." And I couldn’t help but smile at that brilliant response.

"What do you prefer; men or women?" probed this geometric mind again.

"Oh, without a doubt women!" And now I looked down directly into him with the subtle defiance of a vampire.

The conversation continued its bumpy course with a string of diehard pick-up lines intermittent in the discourse about sexual preferences, until eventually I lured him onto the dance floor where I hoped to loose him. This almost backfired as he started begging me to kiss him. Fate, however, was on my side, as a girl I had met just that morning came busting through the crowds, threw her arms around me and greeted me. Perfect!

Triumphantly I told him I had to leave to join her. He implored me to kiss him. Against my wishes I did, but only because I thought that this simple creature needed retribution. So, with my vampire awakened and without warning, I plunged mercilessly teeth first into him, and then disappeared as swiftly as a spectre, his blood ruby on my lips.

The night gained momentum once meeting Mr. Don’t Talk Just Kiss in the company of my new found friends. "Enthusiasm" burst from his bulging chest and other well developed parts of his body. He had the rugged, sexy face that one sees in those wonderfully butch cigarette ads. I tore myself from him at four am. to go home, but would meet him again the following week for a cup of coffee… without the coffee. Not for the lack of coffee, if you know what I mean…

Well, so much for an evening of hibernation! The weekend rolled over and over like a mesmerised lover in bed. Soon it was Saturday night and the fever of Friday night had not cooled. I lay in my misty bath as I prepared for another night, hypnotised by the flame of the candle pouring liquid gold over the surface of the smooth pane of water. My thoughts swam from one side to the other; through the shimmering Milky-way of stars in the cluster of bubbles orbiting in the watery universe. I pondered my beloved Gordon’s words in response to the two chapters I’d shown him for my novel:

"One day I think you will explode like the great, fiery universal conflagration and that those around who care for you rather than Camilia will weather the space storm. Those that are merely watched or watching, those that are trying to grab a ride or would attempt to draw you in their direction, will be thrown back in shock, in disdain, in fear, in pity, at the beauty of your expansive aura.

Your last two chapters make me wonder whether you are a planet or a comet? Perhaps you are a Sun around which planets and comets roll like balls on a Roulette wheel, their fates unknown and the wheel unaffected by their fate. Ultimately alone. And the only permanent feature being the table.

And what am I to you? Another Sun that is distant but the same. Yet, although we may be Suns of different colours, we are able to understand our existence and the lives of the planets and comets around us as they come and go?

Don't stop watching! But also watch your reflection in the mirrors that are their faces! What is your name? What does the Puma, or Sherine, think of you when they watch you? What do you want them to call you? Or is it their individuality that intrigues a Sun to pull a comet towards itself?"

His words echoed and sank slowly into the steaming water. I climbed out the bath, chose my guise for the evening and left for Pandora’s. From several blocks away I could hear the music bursting out louder than usual. As I approached the entrance I realised what all the fuss was about.

Outside tall blazing fiery torches waved us in as they tossed about in the wind on either side of two huge Egyptian Sphinxes. It was Pandora’s Birthday Celebration with an Egyptian, Arabian theme. Inside things looked very different. The wall to wall mirrors were all covered with hanging murals of desert scenes, camels and nomads. And mingling in the crowd were several sequenced drag queens throwing free schnapps and tequila down people’s throats.

Five double Vodkas straight up and three double Schnapps’ later, I staggered into the ladies room which rarely doesn’t have some gentlemen in it. Wrestling with the swing door I stumbled right into the arms of the one and only Black Beauty. Had I been sober, I would have been mortified.

"Hi, Baby." she regained our balance. "Howzit !" I slurred as if we were old friends, not kindred enemies.

"So… you like dancing on that speaker…do you?" she acknowledge me.

"Aha…" was all I could muster.

"I’m so trashed!" she confided.

"You’re trashed… I’ve been drinking Vodka since five this afternoon!" I boasted.

"Ahhhh, and the night is still so young," she gleamed.

Whipping the miniature bottle of Jamaican rum I’d been nursing all night from my pocket, I thrust it to her, almost loosing my balance. "Then lets drink to a night to remember!" She accepted the offer. Just then her girlfriend came out the one cubical. They left and I closed the cubical door behind me. As I revelled in the irony of bumping into Terry, the Black Beauty, I heard the entertaining conversation of two girls waiting their turn. "What star sign are you?" inquired the one. "What star sign do you want me to be…?" came a reply worth framing.

I started making my way back to the dance floor resolute to vigorously work off some alcohol, when Chance herself grabbed me by the hair and tossed me face to face with Sherine. "A life lived without the regret is a life half lived." I thought. "I will impale myself like a vampire and seduce fate." I decided.

"Hi," I smiled loudly over the beat of the music. "I am Camilia. I handed you my card last Saturday night"

"Oh it’s you ! I always watch you doing your thing on that speaker. I was going to call you but lost the card. Do have another on you now?" Her face splintered into a smile as she spoke.

I pulled one out of my pocket and handed it to her balanced between two fingers.

"I promise I’ll call next week. But don’t disappear now." she said enthusiastically.

"Oh no I won’t! I’m just getting started." I assured her.

Quite in my element, I jumped to the top of the stairs again overlooking the whole club and excitedly took in the scene. Pandora’s was teaming with fish of all shapes, sizes and colours. "Tonight is a special night," I thought. "Tonight anything can happen. I can feel it in the brush of the crowds. I can see it in the red glow of the smoke twisting against the lights pulsing on the dance floor. And I can smell it in the concoction of tobacco, perspiration, cologne, perfume and alcohol."

The music put its hand tenderly around the back of my neck and drew me to its lips. The rhythm took me by the waist and pulled me through the throbbing bodies on the dance floor onto the speaker that has become my pinnacle; the tower from which I let down my hair like Rupunzel. And those below climb up it as they watch me watching them.

All around were the most fascinating people. Across by the bar the Fire Fairy burned for her lover, her mouth full of liquid fire. She sparkled as she smiled. There they all stood on the other side. She and all her friends. They watched me. They were fascinated, aroused, tender. And in the bulging lava sea of people on the dance floor were all the colours of the rainbow, all the flavours of pleasure and all the sounds of the symphony of heaven.

Down into that hot jelly of the depths of the Earth I reached with my eyes and pulled out Pandora’s ancient demise; the twist in the tale, the beginning of the end. There he was again; the Frenchman that was watching me last weekend. But this time he had his beautiful girlfriend with him. He watched me directly, steadily to draw me in. And this while holding his girlfriend in his arms. I looked at her. She was milky, smooth, delicious. Her long, straight blonde hair looked as soft as the glittery silk of a caterpillar. Her lips were pale petals. Her eyes dreamy transparent blue, green. She looked up at me and I smiled, because she deserved kindness. She smiled at me and caressed my neck with her eyes.

I jumped from my speaker into the crowds in search of someone that looked as though they could do with a little dope. It had been three weeks since the last time I had dope. Tonight was a good night; a good night to inhale that drug and become inebriated… lost, found, loved, confused, forgotten and rescued.

So I chose Caroline, a girl who looked as though she was game for just about anything. She raged on her own from here to there and all over the club like the wind. Once I noticed her stand in one place longer than a minute I approached her. "Care for a joint?" I said nonchalantly, with a kindred gleam in my eye.

"Wooooooeeeeee… I don’t know, hey. I’ve just dropped my second ‘A’." she blurted wide-eyed.

"Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise…." I started apologising.
"No, it cool. Let’s do it."

"Are you sure…"

"Yes, yes…"

"Okay, let’s go." I concluded.

"Where shall we have it?" I said.

"I don’t know… Gotta be safe. Cops around hey…"

"Okay then. My car… Trust me." I wondered how she felt about going off with a total stranger for a spliff. She was cool.

It doesn’t take long for dope to make best friends of total strangers. Soon we were swimming around in conversations that ranged from the most profound to the most ridiculous while inhaling the dope a second and third and forth time as it circulated in the car. The hypnotic rave music in the background took us on a runaway train to a time and place several weeks in the future within fifteen minutes. We slipped from restful oasis’ of laughter to fits of silence. And on top of that she was tripping on her acid.

Eventually we decided we’d better get moving back to Pandora’s. It’s not good to be stationary for too long on dope. It makes you dopey. On our arrival at Pandora’s we walked into a caravan of three real, live camels mounted by men and women dressed as Arabian princes and princesses. Of course you’re thinking we were hallucinating it, seeing as we were stoned and tripping. But no, they were actually there. It was part of the birthday celebrations. Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction.

Everything had changed around in the club when I walked in. There was a speaker right by the bar and all the others were occupied by vague, yet colourful creatures I think were human beings. I climbed onto the speaker at the bar, focused on balancing and resumed my dancing. My eyes roamed back and forth over the dance floor, which had become a surging ocean. Suddenly someone started tugging at my jacket. It was that Frenchman with his gorgeous girlfriend again.

I leaned down to hear what he wanted to say. "She says she wants to kiss a girl right now." I thought I heard him say. So I looked at her and saw in her eyes that it was exactly what he had said; those eyes that looked like calm mountain pools.

Without hesitation, as if about to dive under water I deeply took my last breath and plunged into her. It felt the way it feels to swim naked on a warm summer’s night when you’re drunk. I sank deeper and deeper into a breathless, fearless, soundless place, every muscle in my body relaxing. I thought I would faint with pleasure.

And she? In my mouth I could feel she tasted what she had craved all her life. She was like a baby sucking contentedly at it’s mother’s breast. She gently pulled me off the speaker and into her arms. All of a sudden it felt as though our only source of life was in each others’ mouths. We were afraid to drink in the foreign air of this Earth’s atmosphere. My breath was in her mouth and hers in mine. She breathed into my mouth as if it were a hollow cave.

Everything around me disappeared. I felt completely alone with her. And somewhere in the archives of my mind I realised that now I had become the watched; the subject desired, envied, loved and detested. But I didn’t care. All of that dissolved in the water around us, in our minds and in our mouths. And I recalled the words from a story I love, "… this fizzy, giddy all consuming now. I will not let time lie to me. I will not listen to dead voices and unborn pain. ‘What if?’ has no power over ‘What if not?’ The not of you is unbearable…"

"Do you want to take her home, my Baby?" I heard him ask her. She looked at me and I wilted with delight like a flower at midday. With that I found myself lying in her arms on the back seat of their car. He drove us to their home. I kept thinking I was dreaming. My dreams are like this. Outrageous. This can never happen in real life.

"You will have to tell me what to do," she smiled delicately, stroking my hair.

"You won’t need to be shown. It comes naturally, because it’s already inside you." I assured her. "Nobody had to teach you to enjoy your first ice cream or chocolate."

"Oh, she loves chocolate," said Mr. Frenchman from the drivers seat. I had forgotten he was there.

Once at their home I collapsed on the double bed in absolute euphoria. She came to me and her continuous gentle gazed blossomed in slow motion. Her hands explored my body like the breath of a fragrant breeze, as he started undressing me for her. It felt as if I had been sucked into another dimension; a kind of heaven, because this just could not be happening. In the background I heard the music from an all night TV channel. Someone was singing, "I need Jesus…" and I gurgled a giggle in her mouth.

She was exquisite. Her golden, silky body wrapped around mine with so much emotion I wanted to cry. Such intense love seeped into me from her arching body that I gasped for breath. Love at first sight is no fisherman’s tale. Over and over... and over passion rolled onto the shore of our island; our treasure island.

It didn’t occur to me for one second that I was making love to a women. And yet it was all I focused on. To be in that luscious place is to be adored by the entire cosmos and to kiss the glowing face of the universe. She brought into my soul the stars, the moon, the sun, the ocean, the mountains, the lightning, the rain and into my mouth the most delicious forbidden fruit. She sampled every inch of my body like an expert chef, and I hers. She tasted so good. Sweet on the outside and salty on the inside; moist, creamy and hot.

Suddenly I felt a heavier hand on me. It was Fred the Frenchman; naked. And so it became a threesome. It is a mind bogging experience to have two people; a man and a women make love to you at once. They were distinctly different. Every action on her part was done with gentle attention to detail, warmth and emotion. His approach was boisterous, performance based, rushed and desperate.

I followed suit. When kissing her I was meek. Like a purring lion I nipped carefully at her lips, and traced the curves of the inside of her cheeks and teeth with my tongue. With him I bared my canines and vampirishly tore at his neck and clawed his body with nails making grooves all over his zealous fucking.

My lungs filled with acid when he fucked her. She leaned over me on her hands and knees as he took her from behind. A waterfall of affection cascaded over me from her eyes. I wanted to be tossed off that bed in the vigorous storm. But she entwined her fingers in mine and reached into my Milky Way with a kiss as if he didn’t exist; as if he wasn’t thrusting into her harder and faster. She sucked on me desperately with eyes shut as tight as an oyster.

After he came and collapsed on the other side of the bed she snuggled against me like a kitten and pulled my arms around her. He fell asleep and we caressed each other almost all night. Two nights later I allowed him to penetrate me, and she almost shrivelled up and died. While he worked I held onto her with all my might as if this rocking and rolling would pull me away from her forever.

I thought, "Somewhere in the world it must be raining. And do I hear angels crying?"

Monday morning I woke up in her arms to a news report on CNN, "and here we see a cold front approaching South Africa…". I quietly left into the frozen morning air. I shielded her naked body against the wind as we kissed goodbye in the doorway. Tuesday turned up and the love she had impregnated me with brooded; craved the soft down of her nest. She phoned me and told me that the threesome had to come to an end, because both she and he could not handle it, but that she still wanted to see me. I felt the same.

"How does he feel about you continuing to see me?" I asked, already cold with death.

"I don’t know. I will speak to him tonight." she replied.

I phoned her first thing the next morning to find out what the outcome of their discussion was. "We had a fight, broke up and I slept on the couch. So we didn’t even talk about it. It happens all the time, it’s a game. We always make up… But this time is different; I feel different. Let’s get together this evening." she said.

So for the first time in their eight months together she did not return home straight after work. She switched off her cell phone and we had dinner at a reputable restaurant. She looked impeccably feminine in her mini shirt and tailored jacket. She begged me to be discreet inside before we walked in which is ironic, because it was she who nearly shocked the living daylights out of me when she leaned over and kissed me deeply halfway through dinner. "I just couldn’t resist it," she said like a little girl.

She looked out the window across to Pandora’s Piano Lounge and said, "There’s your home." And I smiled. It is my home, my family, my haven.

We finally got to talk; something we didn’t do all weekend. We spent two hours painting detailed pictures of our histories for each other. She told me how she had been cold and ruthless with men before Fred came along. The only reason it had lasted with them was because he is so long suffering. She treated him with so much disregard but he always came back. When they first met she told him that she suspected she was gay, but he wouldn’t give up on her.

I heard about the strains on their relationship. The fact that he was twice her age, that she couldn’t conform to being a homely, subservient women and about his four month old baby in Durban that he goes to visit every third weekend, soon to be every second weekend.

After dinner we went for drinks at Tango Blue. The more we drank the more our facade crumbled. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. So she dragged me off to the ladies room and practically raped me. I put up no resistance. It was after midnight when we finally left, almost unable to walk straight. I dropped her off at her car back at the restaurant, because she adamantly wanted to go home to face the music.

Nothing could have prepared me for the news she gave me the following day. When she returned she found him in a state of rage like she’d never seen before. Amongst other things he said that he didn’t want her to see me again, and threatened to tell her parents and friends of her involvement with me. She had to choose who she wanted, but more profoundly who she was willing to be known as in life. I knew what she would choose; society’s regard and comfort.

Two days later I arrived at her work first thing in the morning. She was happily surprised. I was serious. We went to a coffee shop to talk. "You’ve made your decision haven’t you?" I said apparently emotionless. With that she began her rehearsed response "I’ve thought about it and realised I’m not gay or bisexual. I could never choose a women over a man. I prefer a man and don’t think two women can be in love. What we had was just a flirtation with the idea. But I still want to have you as a friend… without intimate physical involvement."

I almost walked out at that point. What an insult! I knew exactly what I wanted to say but felt the words choking in my throat. But I pressed through because she just had to know what I knew of her and she needed to know it herself.

With a calm, sure voice I began, "Does this mean that you were lying when you told me over dinner that making love has never ever felt so good as when you had it with me? Because you seemed deadly sincere about that intimate disclosure. And does it mean that you were confused when you told me that if ever you were to break up with Fred, and I wasn’t around, that you could never go onto another man?"

I continued resolute, "No, I don’t want to see you as a friend. Not because I want "all or nothing", but because too much has happened and because we both know how you truly feel about me. What I saw in your eyes when you looked at me I’ve never seen in another person’s eyes. No-one has ever looked at me with such pure love, tenderness and desire. And as for the way you touched me… We will never be able to go out as friends without dying of hunger for each other. I would go insane."

She remained speechless, "You told me that your involvement with Fred is a game. I say you don’t have the guts to end the game and experience real life; flesh and blood passion and love with me. And I can’t help but wonder whether this whole thing with me has been just another game. If that is the case, I choose to end this game. Because I far prefer real life, no matter how difficult it is. I will not forego the beauty of this for a lie. Because that is too cruel."

I was nearing the end, "I am going to walk away from you now and will not see you again. But before I go I will cut out my heart and leave it here with you. I will go home and retrieve the old stone I had for a heart and put it in the hole. Because I refuse to feel the way I did before. And I will purge my mind of every memory of you, or I will die with longing for you. You know better than I do that you and Fred are not going to last. And when that day comes, you are going to curse yourself, because for the sake of reputation and safety, you have rejected the one you’ve loved most. And when that happens I will not be around, because I refuse to nurture a miserable hope that you will find the courage to admit how you feel. Fortune favours the brave."

"But if you remember nothing of me or what I’ve said, so help you God, remember this: don’t ever let anyone make you believe that what you are, desire, feel and have experienced now is unnatural, ugly, disgusting or shameful. People want to give you a label. And you know where they’re going to stick it? Right over your mouth… Furthermore, if you choose to believe that two women can’t fall in love, then you have never understood the nature and meaning of love in it’s essence, nor have you grasped what it is to be human… just like the rest of them. The night I first made love to you, was the first night I ever made love. Everything before has just been sex." I concluded.

Her eyes naked blue, she responded, "You are right… about everything. It started off as a game. Because I never expected to feel the way I do now. But when I went to dinner with you the night I broke up with Fred I was so excited. I really believed it was finally over between him and I. And that I could seriously pursue what we started. But it’s all different now. It’s so difficult. I need to think about what you’ve said. Give me time."

She hesitated painfully, "And what will you do if you see me around town or in a club? Because it is going to happen?"

"You will not exist for me. I will walk right past you. Not to punish you, but to save you the embarrassment and to save my integrity." I replied agonisingly dispassionate.

Tonight I went to Pandora’s Piano Lounge, but left after just an hour. She was not there. It is not my home anymore. Because she became my home. A life lived without regret is a life half lived. And now I taste my own blood in my mouth. How do you kill a vampire? A stake through the heart…

Cornelia Botha
17 August 96