'Tis the Season for Some Folly

WC 735

‘Tis the Season for Some Folly

By Jack Rawlins

Last Friday during Happy Hour at the Oak Bar, Donny was on his second extra dry straight up martini when a raven-haired beauty swished into the room and flowed to a spot next to him.


“Can I buy you a drink? “he asked when-- like a lady about to ride side saddle-- she gracefully mounted the bar stool next to him.


“I’m afraid they don’t carry my favorite here,” she said in a husky, breathy voice as she smoothed her a-lot- more-than basic black velvet dress.“

“In keeping with the season, why don’t you try one of Ziggy’s specials, a Bloody Mary?” he suggested.

“Hmmm. I like the name, but I don’t drink alcohol," she answered and then added. ”In keeping with what season, my I ask?”


“Why Halloween, my dear. ‘Tis the season to be gory… a time for spooks, gooks and goblins.
And chain saw massacres. ” he said.

”No zombies, mummies without daddies—or vampires?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. Those too, “he said with a smile.

“My name is Draculetta, “she said offering her hand.

He brushed it with his lips and said, “And my name is Donald Brooke; my friends call me Donnybrook.”

“Draculetta…’he continued. “That’s a lovely but unusual name.

“It’s a derivative of Dulcinea,” she explained. “You know Dapper Don Q’s passion fruit.”

“Oh, yes. He never did pluck her did he?”

“That’s rather crude, “she huffed.

“Just kidding. Just kidding.” he chuckled. “Do I detect a touch of German accent, Draculetta?”

“No. I’m from Transylvania.”

“Now, you’re kidding me.”

“No. Really, “she said. “I’m from Transylvania.”


“No. Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’re a vampire and you only drink real blood,” he laughed.

“Actually, I work for Victoria’s Sacher-Torchet,” she said.

“You work for the people who make those expensive undies and tiny thong things?”

“No. That’s Victoria’s Secret. I work for Victoria’s Torchet “in Vienna. They’re the original makers of Sacher-Torte, the most famous cake in the world for more than 175 years!

“What do you do for them?”

“I supply their secret ingredient.”

“And that is?”

“If I told you it would no longer be a secret, now, would it?

“Yeah. Right. Draculetta, I have to ask: You’re not working this bar are you?”

“Donnybrook, my friend, you are an asshole. And yet, I find your rude, bluntness refreshing. No, I am not working. I am not a lady of the evening. I am not a hooker. I am into what you might call sustainable subculture. “

“Which is what?” he asked.

“You have to sink your teeth into it to understand it.” She answered.

“Never mind. Look, Draculetta, It’s an old joke, but you don’t have to smoke or drink to have a good time. Will you sleep with me?”

‘My how romantic,” she answered. “You move quickly, Donnybrook. And so do I. The answer is yes. Are you staying here?”

“Yes, “he said and slid his key over to her. “Let’s not leave together. It looks too obvious. I’ll meet you in my room in a few minutes.

Later…Just a little bit later….

He answered a gentle tap-tap at his door and swung it open with a flourish.

"Well,” he gushed as he invited her in, “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

"Believe me, the pleasure is about to be all mine,” she answered.


“Well,” he said” it's so nice to see you again. Shall we prance?”

“Please. Don't rush. Woo me.”

“How do you like to be wooed?”

“Caress me. Nibble my ears. Nibble my neck.”

Donny did as he was bid.

“Hmmm,". She purred after few minutes. “That's nice. Now it’s my turn. .Just relax, Donny," she said as she sank her teeth into his neck.


“Ouch! That’s not a love nibble "He yelped. “That’s a real god damn bite! What’s with you lady?”

“Sorry,” she said. And once more she nibbled, caressed and licked until she felt the tenseness leave his body. Soon, the magic of the moment and too many martinis shut down all his receptors except those which competed for sex or slumber.

In a dreamy childlike voice he mumbled, "Draculetta, please be nice."

In response, like a sump pump at full throttle, she drew a massive draught, and licked her lips as she watched him drift into a coma. “There are no nice vampires,” she said coldly.

###

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