Vampire at Wal-Mart

Vampire at Wal-Mart

“Good evening Wal-Mart shoppers. The time is now 9:50; the store will close in ten minutes. Please bring your items to the nearest checkout counter. Thanks for shopping at Wal-Mart and have a pleasant evening," blared the loudspeaker.

The shoppers and day staff filed out of the store as the night staff wandered in. These were the cleaners, the shelf stockers and supervisors. No khaki pants and navy blue tops for the night staff, no Wal-Mart welcomes and smiles, no restrictions on facial piercings. These night people were a different breed altogether.

Brad was unloading a skid and sorting merchandise onto trolleys for the various departments. He was tall, dark-haired and muscular with rather pale skin. His jeans and tee shirt were black. His manner was quiet and casual. Perhaps, he didn't talk much because he spoke with a heavy Slavic accent. He watched as Valencia stepped out the back door to have a cigarette.

Valencia was vivacious, outgoing and everyone knew far too much about her. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves; Valencia had hearts tattooed on her arm, along with dragons and various other mythical demons that rose in swirls of red, green and blue from her wrist to her shoulder. She wore goth makeup and tee shirt with a skull emblem from the heavy metal band Megadeath.By no means a model employee; frequently late, which would earn her a mild reprimand from her male supervisors. True to her name she was ripe, lush and ready to be plucked.

Brad followed her outside. Valencia was leaning against a dumpster wreathed in smoke.

"Good evening, I am Brad," he said as he approached her. His walk was rhythmic, smooth and silent like an animal.

"I know who you are," she purred.

"I came to see you. You are a very beautiful woman. I like that," he stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I'm flattered. You're honest anyway, I hate cutesy bullshit. Where are you from? I don't recognize your accent," she questioned.

"I'm from Romania, Transylvania to be more precise," with a smile on his handsome face he continued. "There are many old traditions in my country; some of them quite horrifying."

"Cool, you'll have to tell me about them sometime. I dig that stuff. So, what did you have in mind, Brad?" she questioned.

"You are direct, I like that." Brad moved towards her, their thighs pressed together. He could feel her warmth and the fullness of her breasts against his chest. Valencia was attracted by his confidence and magnetism. She didn't pull away when he bent down to kiss her. His scent was reassuring and primal. Her hands slid up the rippling muscles of his back and she pulled him closer. Her eager lips were full, soft and moist as they welcomed his exploring tongue. He inhaled her scent - not a girly scent that comes out of a bottle - but the deep, rich maternal scent of vulnerability that has attracted men since the beginning of time. He was attracted like a tiger to fresh meat.

"Hold it, big guy. You're cute and all, but, let's not rush things. This is a smoke break not a date. I've already been out here too long. Drive me home after work and I'll make you breakfast. Then you can tell about some of the horrifying traditions of your country."

***

Valencia and Brad arrived at her place in the early hours of the morning. Valencia led the way and unlocked the door to an old house sadly in need of paint and general landscaping.

"I'm already in shit with my neighbors so try to keep it quiet," Valencia whispered to Brad.

The stairs creaked no matter how softly they ascended to the third floor. Valencia unlocked the door to a series of rooms painted black with sparse, rather battered furniture. Instead of bookshelves, dresser drawers were nailed to the walls with the exteriors painted black and the interiors a blood red. Brad approved of the decor.

"What would you like to drink?" Valencia asked as she opened the liquor cabinet.

"My taste in drinks is rather selective, but I won't have anything just now, perhaps later."

"Suit yourself," said Valencia. "I need something now. Pick out some music from the cd collection."

Brad rifled through the disks. He decided on 'Lady Cadaver' by Angelkill and 'Compilations At Death's Door' by Malevolent Creation. He would have preferred some Wagner.

Valencia grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and, from a cookie jar, pulled out a couple of joints. Brad followed her lead to the bedroom. Her sheets were black and the pillow covers were red. They lay on the bed and smoked in silence.

"This is what I look forward to every day," Valencia said sadly. "The end of work and then a few hours rest before starting it all over again. There's got to be more to life than this."

"Sadly," said Brad, "this is one of the good days, it all goes downhill from here." They both smiled at the thought and embraced. They kissed deeply as if this were their last morning on earth.

"Take me, Brad," Valencia moaned, "as if there were no tomorrow."

"I will my dearest," he said softly. His muscles rippled and bulged as his arms straddled her shoulders. He admired the beauty of her face as he lowered his head to nuzzle behind her ears. He was mesmerized by the throbbing artery in her neck until he could bear it no longer. His fangs extended like the claws of a cat and with relief he sank them into her neck. Her blood seeped down his throat like a vintage cognac. They fell asleep in each other's arms -- each with a satisfied smile.

Valencia awoke and looked at the full-length mirror near her bed, she expected to see her reflection; but, she saw nothing but her empty bedroom.

(Word count: 985.)