Vivian's POV
The research paid off. Damn straight it did!
I was a fucking genius.
Yes, Vivian Addams was a fucking genius!
It took me a lot of ass kissing to get damned boss man Berger to finally agree to send me on an assignment that delivered my gorgeous ass dab smack in the location of great Hollywood. Oh, yes, dolls and dollies, yours truly invaded Hollywood.
Oh, hell no, not to become some idiotic starlet actress.
I went to Hollywood on a mission. One of my bloodhounds, a little fellow who did some side research for me, Norman Butters sent me a shit load of information. Such juicy info that geek dug up for me.
He staked claim that within the darker side of Hollywood there was some joint where strange happenings occurred. Of course, those happenings were straight up this journalist's alley. At the end of an even darker alley was located a private club, Club Blood it was called.
The more I read the info Norman had sent my way in forms of logged information from his numerous stakeouts, the more the story made me salivate. That story drove me into Berger's office and I basically demanded the fat-ass to fork out the funds for my out of town assignment. Yes, he bitched and moaned at me, argued nearly until his face was red, but he caved. No one refuses me, not even my so called boss.
So, after a flight from Atlanta across the United States, I landed in California. My mission was to sniff out this so called vampire hangout named Club Blood and get the juiciest unveiled story of my career.
1980, the swelling of Horror slasher films had taken over after it was spawned by Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Halloween. I always loathed slasher flicks. In my opinion Hollywood was dead and buried beneath a layer of sliced and diced bodies. I missed my old classic vampire flicks. There was nothing like a good bloodsucker who stalked busty women in effort to do a little sucking.
Well, there I was, amongst the world where the Universal monsters were created and given life but were killed off by idiotic machete wielding mutes. Yet, I wasn't there for sight seeing. I was there on that self assigned mission to locate and invade that mysterious club.
I predicted a bunch of vampire wannabes who sported clip-on fangs and sucked blood from razor inflicted cuts. But there was something within Norman's journal-like writings that intrigued me with hopes of some serious true cold blooded suckers.
I didn't have much time to spend there. I was straight on the bloody scent, dressed in my figure hugging signature ensemble of pin-up glory and always a drop dead gorgeous pair of spiked six inch Mary Jane's.
Norman provided me the secret address he had been staking out for several months. So, out into the night I strutted my stuff.
Club Blood was located in the center of Hollywood Boulevard off some dank and dark alley. Yep, I had some serious balls, traipsed out into the unknown where Norman claimed vampires haunted. I desperately wanted Norman's information to be correct.
I dreamed all my thirty-seven years for a moment to come face to face with a real and true undead creature of the night. But since I knew I was walking into that unknown alone, I made sure I tucked a few godly trinkets into my clutch.
Inside the clutch I stashed a crucifix, a little vile of holy water, and a switch blade. Yeah, switch blades were useless against the undead but I decided it was better safe than sorry. I more so worried about have my stunning self mugged than bitten by a fanged dark beauty.
I strutted my luscious ass along the walk of fame. My Mary Jane's tapped against those many star names, none I cared about. My darling Christopher Lee wasn't there nor his always foe Peter Cushing. Only one of any interest was Vincent Price, he was worth a star of course but unfortunately the other two Horror gods were not, according to dumb ass Hollywood.
Of course, as I strolled along, I passed those typical night creatures we call whores. I got some offers from passerby Jons. I didn't blame them, I looked damned better than those twig-let and cracked out hookers. Yet, there was no price that could be offered to purchase my expertise and merchandise. So I basically told them to 'fuck off' then was on my merry bitchy way towards the darkness, the deeper darkness.
Norman informed me that for me to enter the club I would have to state that I was either menu or diner. Well, shit, I thought, I knew I wasn't a diner and, damn, I hated the idea of labeling myself as the menu. But, as a journalist, one must make sacrifices. So, that night, I was the menu.
A further trek down Hollywood Boulevard, I found my first entrance into the unknown. No, I wasn't nervous, I was anxious. I faced that dark opening, saw the glow of a red neon sign in the distance; Club Blood. I thought it an obvious name.
I questioned in thought, what dumb fuck would name a vampire club, Club Blood?
Yet, it was also a good front. Who in their right mind would believe a bunch of undead bloodsuckers existed?
Yeah, I'm one who hoped and prayed for their existence, along with my loyal readers.
I brought a fabulous Mary Jane forward followed by the other and into the dark alley I sashayed. My lovely blues focused on that neon sign that seemed to call my infamous name. Come to me, Vivian. That sign beckoned and I did as called.
The closer I came, my rich red lips formed my signature pucker with the corners deviously turned up. Closer I came, my left and perfectly defined brow lifted as the intrigue and excitement grew inside me. There was always excitement if there was a possible true darkness that waited my arrival.
Since I was eighteen, I had that longing for the darkness. My every sleeping moment, behind my closed lids were visions of vampire grandeur. My dreams were always haunted by visions of pure beautiful darkness. Always I witnessed the darkest large eyes. The vastness of my dreams showed me glimpses of a mouth, lips formed into the most stunning slanted grin. There were moments that remarkable kisser was glossed by blood and all I desired was to taste those lips.
I neared the second entrance into the unknown. My heart pounded with excitement. In my thoughts I prayed that beyond that entrance I would finally discover what I had truly searched for throughout my life.
My crystal blues shifted at the shadowy image of what I suspected was a brute doorman. When I made my final approach, I was correct.
A tall brute of a man, dressed head to toe in black and sporting a pair of heavily darkened shades stood firm like a wall. Only his head turned and I could only assume he looked and eyed me.
I paused at the closed entrance, the metal door painted black. I briefly eyed the guy then broke the silence, "Well?"
The man's expression was frozen stiff then his lips finally moved and he asked, "Menu?"
Well, I guess I was obvious, I always prided myself being an original shout-out to the beauties like Vampira. I shrugged and replied, "I guess so."
"Fine," the guy said.
He finally moved from his stiff post and fetched something. He stepped from his post and handed me a long stemmed crimson rose. He slammed his hand against the metal door, the loud bang echoed against the walls of the alley.
I took the crimson rose. Hmm, I thought, apparently menu items received roses as symbol of their status.
The metal door was heard unlocked then it crept open with a subtle creak of the hinges.
My eyes peered forward into more darkness, finally heard the first sounds of what a supposed club should sound like.
I stepped forward over the threshold into further unknown territory. Yes, I've been to plenty vampire hangouts in past assignments but there was something inside me that screamed with excitement that what I had stepped into was beyond the past.
