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Sunday 8 June 2014

Fur Thing Snippet

Usual warnings: still to go through final edit, and possible adult themes/language. Have fun!


Something dark buzzed around the open window, and then swarmed into the room. Wasps. They spun around the bedroom in a funnel of a million humming bodies, dipped briefly past Ruth into the bathroom, then headed for the doorway where we stood.
Lightfoot and I danced aside. Astrid leaned against the inside wall, folded her arms across her chest, and let them swirl past her. She looked like she was ready to hold up a points card and critique the swarm on movement and agility.
Then again, wasps wouldn't do much damage to a vamp. It's a bit hard to get worked up over something you know can't hurt you.
The swarm drifted lazily back into the bedroom, and hovered over the bed for a second, wings roaring.
Then it moved to the side of the bed, away from us, and collapsed to the floor. Seconds later another form rose from where the swarm had fallen, dusted off the arms of his coat, and leaned over the mass of fur on the bed.
We all turned to Astrid.
"No," she growled. "I don't do that."
The man at the bed shrugged his coat off, and laid it carefully across the chair in the room, undoing his cuffs and the top buttons of his shirt. The skin on his chest and arms was smooth and hairless, and the colour of burnt honey. 
"He's vain, and has money," Lightfoot said. "The haircut is professional, and his nails are manicured. Those clothes are expensive, and he looks after them."
The male vamp rubbed a hand over a lightly stubbled jaw. He was a good-looking bastard, I'd give him that. Black hair, dark eyes, and a well-toned body under the pricey clothes. He wouldn't have to do much work to get female attention, if that was his chosen victim pool.
The shirt came off and I sighed. This seemed to be my night for watching unwanted strip shows.
The shoes came next, then the fine silk socks. I stared at the pale white feet on the bedroom carpet.
"He has a tan. Would someone tell me why our vamp has a tan?" I looked at Astrid, who shook her head. 
"Could be fake," Ruth said.
"No," Lightfoot said. "The fake stuff doesn't stick to vamps."
"She's right," Astrid said. "It washes straight off. Doesn't matter if its salon spray or DIY. I get better results from tea, or carrot juice."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine Astrid sitting in a carrot juice bath.
"I was curious!" she snapped.
My mind placed a little green feathered cap on the vamp in carrot juice image.
The male vamp slipped his trousers down over his hips, and the girls attention snapped back to him. I sneered. Red bikini underwear, really? How Eurotrash could you get?
Lightfoot patted me on the shoulder. "I'm sure yours is just as pretty," she told me.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
Astrid made a choking noise from her spot against the wall.
"If course, I'd have to check to be sure," Lightfoot continued, and I felt my face flare bright red again. 
Make something happen, make something happen.
Don't get me wrong, I love women. But I've never got past the first date stage. It's hard to stay in human form at certain moments, which I'd discovered a long, long time ago. Not to mention a few other little physical quirks, like the massive patch of multicolored skin that runs the length of my body; I doubt any female is going to look at me naked and make encouraging noises. I had no idea what to say back. 
Make something ha-
The male vampire rescued me by stripping off the briefs. 
Not quite what I had in mind, universe.
There was a moment of appreciative silence from my companions.
"I'm guessing he doesn't feel the cold much," Ruth said.
I was so not enjoying this.