In The Hands Of A Vampire Ch 05

Author Note:

Sorry for the delay. Took me a bit to put this together though it was already written way before the other previous chapters.

Thank Anonymous Feedback person for nipping me in my fabulous ass to get this baby out.

Enjoy, Dolls and Dollies!

Vivian's POV

Its 1982, the reign of the vampire movies seemed to have died beneath the weight of supernatural serial killers stalking overly sexed teens. No one seemed to enjoy blood dripping fangs any more. Mostly those dumb ass thrill seekers hunted for blood drenched machetes that recently lopped the head of one those sinful teenagers.

I missed the old days of the Hammer films where Dracula reigned supreme. Good old black capes, bloodshot eyeballs, and blood stained fangs. Hmm, those were the days.

Well, in with the new and out with the old. That's what boss man Larry Berger said during one of many weekly get togethers at the so called round table of tabloid writers. He proclaimed that readers were more interested in alien abductions, murderous housewives, and love affairs with Satan than the old fashioned 'my boyfriend is a vampire or werewolf' bit.

Fuck Berger!

Fat ass wasn't getting some cheesy shit from me. I was too damned devoted to my immortals to go searching for Satan fuckers. Screw those depressed housewives who chopped up their husbands and stored their remains in the chest freezer in the basement. The aliens could eat me for all I care and the star-fuckers can probe as many cattle and rednecks that they wanted, just leave me and my vampires alone.

Oh, dip shit Berger didn't have the balls to end my center page glory where my face had been for nearly fifteen years. I started writing for the asshole when I wasn't even done getting my journalism degree. Twenty years old with the heart of a poet and the brain of a fucking vampire loving Einstein, I was made for that gig.

Again, it was assignment day at the main office for Moonlight News. The other useless fucks that had the balls to call themselves journalists were given their assignments handed out on sheets of paper by Berger just like a professor handing out assignments to his students. Most were greenhorns, a bunch of baby faced youths who wanted to get their asses into the door of journalism. Many use our fabulous tabloid as a starter for their careers and eventually move on to 'better' things.

To me, nothing's better than Moonlight News.

So, my day started as most. I prepare to hand out my own damned assignment because I had no need for Berger handing me some of his dumb assed so called ideas. I took care of myself.

I left my loft apartment dressed in my usual attire. Always I took pride in my appearance and represented exactly who I was and what I loved. Sure my look was unusual to some, well many, but fuck them. My look was what you could say, inspired. Inspired by a little of Vampira, a dash of Elvira, and a huge dose of Betty Page. I believed I was born for pin-up. I definitely had the body for it. And it took a good bit of the morning to make me look perfect.

My readers always saw the real me. My adoring fans saw in those center pages the way I look every day of my life. Black number one dyed hair draped all the way to the outward roundness of my beautiful ass with the typical Betty Page Victory Rolls crowning the top of my head. A vintage dark princess I was, wore only the snuggest fitted skirts or dresses to accentuate my curvy hips, rear, and cinched waist. I always wore black or red or both, fuck those vomiting pastels.

My face was flawlessly painted with the right amount of makeup. Darkened eyebrows perfectly plucked and shaped with lashes made thicker in the corners by some falsies and black mascara and eyeliner. My full lips were always glossy and slick with the purest shade of red lipstick. And on my feet, the perfect black Mary Jane's hiked six inches.

I stepped out into the daylight, proudly I looked as if nighttime was a more appropriate time of day for me. In daytime was where you get those 'what the fuck' looks from passerby's who I simply stroll passed and ignored them because they aren't worth a look.

I took a cab, the driver typically avoided eye contact with me but there have been times where one or two couldn't keep their ogling eyes off me which always made my day. I sat in the backseat, tuck a cigarette into my black cig holder then slip it between my red lips and light up. Just to see their wide eyes watch me in the rear view mirror was stimulus to my ego. It was as if I were a living and breathing pin-up from the forties, my ego heavily stroked.

Oh, I admit, my ego was well stroked and by myself. I was never smug but I did love myself. And that day, was one of those ego stroking days.

The driver of this cab I've had the past few times which I found pleasantly creepy. I believed there was a stalker in the making. Wouldn't be the first. You would be amazed how many times this lovely creature has been stalked. Too many to count. Not really, at least a dozen times. Yes, I was full of myself but someone has to be.

So, there I was, gave that ogling taxi cab driver a bit of a show as I inhaled then exhaled from the corner of my mouth. I kept close watch through the black lenses of my vintage sunglasses, the ones with those nice little outer peaks decked with tiny rubies.

I said nothing to the driver, not until I gave him a sweet thank you while handing him the cab fee. I got out of the cab and don't look back. Stepping up onto the cluttered sidewalk, people pass by and gave those glances I adore. A flick of my ash, I move forward with a sexy sway about my snugly red covered ass and hips.

There was a newsstand near the Moonlight News building entrance which was where I got many of my self appointed assignments. I grabbed up a couple local normal newspapers to prepare thumbing through the more morbid announcements which were along the lines of reports of unsolved murders, things like that.

I knew how to pick them, those assignments. Vampires gave a pretty typical way about disposing of their victims, the MO usually the same. You have to have a good eye to catch those specific details. The cops won't feed the public every detail but the ones they do, those are the ones that tattled on any vampire. Mainly I scanned for decapitations, not body mutilations where the body is dismembered from limb to limb. Vampires do it clean and simple, the head always removed to prevent their infection from spreading in the effort to prevent their world from being tarnished by whores and bums.

Inside the building, I strolled to the elevator where people either greet me because they know who I was or avoided me for the same reason. Most would consider me a total bitch, a snob you could say. I wasn't truly a real snob, just never enjoyed morons who thought they were better than me when in fact they could never be even half as good. I was the best at what I did and no one could even reach my level.

So, the elevator carried my fabulous ass to the seventh floor. I prepared for another boring assignment presentation.

Once at the seventh floor, into my world, well journalism world I stepped. There were faces of a more regular sort, journalists I've come to respect and some tolerate. Voices greeted me with typical good morning cheers which I responded by waving my black lace gloved fingers. Yes, there were some I play a little flirting game with, Paulie Collins for one.

Paulie had been around for about ten years and established himself as the paranormal expert, ghosts mainly. He was just adorable with his black framed glasses, nerdy haircut, and shabby clothes. I always sent his way a little blown kiss from my fingertips which always made him blush. So adorable.

Reluctantly I sauntered into the boardroom which was cluster fuck of greenhorns prepared to take any assignment they were given.

With my glorious strut, I moved around the round table of lackeys, gave not a one the pleasure of my eye contact. My seat always was to the left of Berger and that's where I sat. My cig snuffed out, I laid out my collection of newspapers then removed my lucky black pen from my black clutch.

When Berger started his babbling of assignments, I simply worked on my own and circled any promising leads.

Throughout the entire meeting, not one word Berger said I heard for I was too focused on finding my next assignment.

With puckered red lips, my eyes scanned over article after article in search for something promising. There were times promising wasn't found so I needed to go through each paper thoroughly. By the third newspaper and halfway through the more gruesome section, my promising lead was found. The other newspapers were abruptly tossed into the center of the round table without any care about interrupting Berger and his desperate show of dominance. With focus, I took my time and read this special article.

You must understand, only the big name murders get headlines. The local trash were lucky to get more than a paragraph. It's the trash I dug through. As I said, vampires discard whores and bums like unwanted trash and typically in back store dumpsters. And that day, in the morning addition of the Public Daily my trash was found which seemed to have been piling up for at least a few months.

Berger made his grand finish, handed out assignment after assignment to the rejects then made his typical statement of the importance of getting those assignments turned in on time for next week's print. My articles ran once a month and that's what I preferred because it took time to peal facts from fiction.

The group of greenhorns scattered to the wind and returned to their cubicles but I stayed behind to give Berger my chosen assignment.

I leaned back in my chair then removed the sunglasses from over my killer blues which looked up at the burly bearded man with a salt and pepper white man's afro. My legs crossed within my snug pencil skirt, my foot twisted side to side as I waited for him to look at me. In all my life I never once asked to be looked upon, the opposite, they looked at me.

Berger finally acknowledged me. His grayish eyes narrowed at me as his thick paws were planted on his broad hips with his thumbs tucked under his beer gut. He asked, "Okay, whatchya got for me?"

I smiled wide up at him.

He asked with hope, "Got anything good? You have less than three weeks to get something to me for your next article." He told me what I already knew.

Smugly I stated,"Well, you know I always come through for you." then, kept my bright red smile unfailing, I announced, "I have all I need right here."

My gloved hand patted the paper of choice then I explained, "There have been a dozen local hookers murdered in two months and each and every one of these upper class whores have had their heads decapitated." I ignored his uninterested expression, "Now, these are not your typical hookers, high class ones so this means my target has more expensive taste. And according to the article, he likes them young. Mostly teen runaways who got lucky and became a fancier hooker instead of your typical street walker."

Berger eyed me with that damned typical expression, "Viv," he shook his head as he gathered up his mess of papers, "This sounds like another one of your vampire hunts." he actually huffed, "I think the readers are getting a tad bored with the same shit." then he actually instructed, "You better find a way to liven things up or I might have to consider shortening your articles and taking you outta center page."

My eyes narrow. Again he threatened to diminish my work.

I defensively reminded, "Berger, you know you would be so screwed if you did that." I stood up from the chair and snatched up the newspaper then reminded him further of my importance, "You know the readers love me and if you even dare cut my shit down to a minimum," my eyes snidely glared at his fat ass, "You'll have some pissed off Vivian Addams fans to deal with." then I slyly asked, "Don't want more hate mail, do you?"

Boss man Berger had plenty hate mail in response to his so called cuts, at least a pound a day.

He again huffed then demanded, "Just liven the shit up, will ya." he wadded his papers in his arms then marched toward the door and shouted, "Just get it done."

"Will do, boss." I sarcastically shout then mumbled under my breath, "Fucking prick."

With the newspaper rolled and tucked under my arm, I sashayed my ass out of that cheap excuse for a boardroom.

I retreated into my own private office. Yes, I had my own office because, face it, I that damned good and important.

My fabulous ass parked behind the desk, I started to take notes from the article.

Now, I thought with focus, it was obvious the targeted subject kept the trail pretty clean, just left behind bodies. My first step, call one of my contacts at the police station.

Sergeant Riley Mattson had been my contact since he was just a rookie with a police badge. I always could count on him to give me what he knew about the multiple murders which looked more like serial killings.

With the tip of my lucky pen I dialed the police station, tapped each touch tone button then sat I wait for someone to pick up.

A voice sounded.

Immediately I asked to be transferred to Mattson.

Mattson picked up and the moment I spoke my charming Southern Bell hello he automatically knew it was me.

"I knew you'd be calling sooner or later." Riley commented with a quick chuckle then stated the obvious, "Calling about those call-girl murders, huh."

With my cunning tone I sang, "Why you know me so well, Riley." then with my sly sweetness I questioned, "So, what do you have for me?"

"Well, so far, not much." Riley unfortunately stated then continued, "We know that each victim is at least between the ages of seventeen to twenty, no older. Each girl has been linked to separate services, not one from the same, and some from outside the city." he continues to blab though he knows he wasn't supposed to, :Each victim has been found in separate locations but always somewhere they can be easily found. And, as you know, each one had their heads removed."

"Okay, now tell me something I don't know." I prodded, basically he told me everything that was printed.

"Well, this is the kicker and one I know you'll go gaga over." he commented which raised my excitement then he said, "No blood. Every single one of these young women was completely void of blood. They were drained even before the heads were removed." then, a sarcastic shit he was, asked, "Does that appease you, my dear?" Thankfully for him, smart asses I trusted.

I nearly giddily reply, "Oh yes it does, doll." I smile wide then asked a confirming question, "So, is the name of the last victim correctly printed? Marsha Fulling?"

"Yep," he said then spells the name out to make sure the spelling I had was correct then as a good little boy he added, "And the place she worked for, if you wanna call that work, is now officially shut down. We couldn't get a definite address of her last client." further he spilled with broadened my lovely grin, "Basically she was picked up by the Jon near a family neighborhood, up in the burbs, Rolling Hills." then he stated, "That's all I got for you."

"Okay, my darling doll," I sang into the phone then praised, "Thank you so much for your help."

"Yeah," he sang then came his true motive for being a snitch, "Why don't you thank me by letting me take you out for a drink, huh."

Poor, poor Riley always salivating for date with me.

I giggled and thought, he's simply delicious, but I said, "Well, maybe."

"Well, that's better than last time I asked." he quickly stated then elaborated, "Last time you said you didn't know. I think I'm wearing you down, my dear."

"Maybe you are." I coyly sang, couldn't help but flirt back, then said, "Well, maybe I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay," he laughed, "Later."

"Bye." I chirped.

I hung up the phone with a broad smile.

Admittedly, at times it was pretty damned tempting to take Riley up on his offer but I had no desire to ruin by contact source because it turned into a failed romantic relationship. Most of my past relationships failed because I got too involved with my work with other underlining specifics. Not a single man from my past would accept my passion for vampires and my belief in them. And, oddly, not a one could compare to another that seemed to haunt my dreams.

I guess, I was lucky if any of those past so called relationships lasted more than a month.

As for Riley, he was special. He and I had a good thing going even if he persistently tried to get me on a date. There was a time I considered turning it into a sexual thing with no strings attached. But, I knew eventually there would be more of romantic thing then would go bust. I would lose my contact.

Strictly business, that was always my motto.

So, with information obtained, I left my desk, snatched my simple note pad and lucky pen then prepared to take a little field trip at Berger's expense.

The petty cash was raided then off I went to begin my field research. Out the building and into a cab, then the cabby was instructed to take me Rolling Hills.

Rolling Hills was one of the oldest suburban communities just outside of city. There was a sense I would get some serious looks entering such a prim and proper locale. Yet, I never minded, a blast for me to get a rise out of folks who weren't used to my kind.

The trip seemed like a long one with the traffic in the middle of town chaotic as usual but I sat in the backseat, lit up my cigarette then jotted down all the information Riley gave. Yeah, it was the typical information I usually obtained from him but that was how it always begun. I never got into the truly darker side until further into my investigation.

By the time I finished the handwritten beginnings of another In the Hands of a Vampire article, the cab rolled into Rolling Hills.

As I predicted, it was your typical cookie cutter neighborhood. Neat dwellings lined with sickening white picket fences. Perfectly mowed lawns filled the air with the stink of newly cut grass. Lampposts at every corner that later would give the pristine neighborhood a soft comfy glow. And I imagined the people who actually lived there. Happy little homes with moms and dads and little bundles of pure hell.

I requested the cabby to park at the entrance to the suburban wasteland, tossed him the fee and a hefty tip if he hung around long enough for me to stroll the neighborhood. The cabby agreed but in most circumstances they up and left.

I got out of the cab and proceeded to light up another cigarette. My lucky pen was tucked behind my ear then I adjusted my clutch over my shoulder. Forward I stepped, hugged my notepad against my large tits with prominent cleavage. It was time to terrorize that neighborhood with my very presence.

It was that time of day where the dads were likely off doing their office jobs while the moms played housewife and the kids were getting mediocre educations. It was my favorite time of year, fall. The trees were just beginning their change in colors, those lovely shades of oranges, reds, and yellows with a splash of boring brown. The surrounding yards were well maintained and clean of any debris. Each house was different but also the same, dull colors brightened with pure white.

I know I stood out amongst all the cleanliness with my bright red pencil skirt snug down to my knees, black cashmere shrug, and a little red and black polka dotted halter underneath with black buttons up the front to the opening of my exposed cleavage.

On occasion I spotted a spying eye peeked out from behind drawn drapes. I flashed a charming smile which prompted the eye to dash for cover. Those prim and proper housewives never saw anything remotely like me. unless they raided their hubbies' stash of nude magazines probably hidden in their tool chest.