Open Invitation
“What the hell is this?” Andrew held up a bunch of photocopied A4 posters advertising a party.
Jared shrugged. “I told you I was having a party the last night before I move away.”
“‘Have a bunch of friends round,’ you said. You never mentioned sticking up posters all the way down the road, saying, ‘Everybody welcome!’”
“The more, the merrier.”
“Don’t forget, I’m still going to be living here after you’ve gone. If your stupid poster encourages the low-lifes who set fire to that van last month to come round and trash the place, I’m the one who’s going to have to live with the carnage.”
“You know how many fucks I give?” Jared raised a middle finger. “Less. Than. This.”
Andrew ripped the posters up, slung them into the recycling bin (suppressing the urge to hurl them into Jared’s face) and stormed into his room, hoping he’d managed to tear the lot down before any strangers had seen them.
He hadn’t quite succeeded.
A little over an hour into the party, Andrew felt reasonably confident that he had succeeded in averting disaster. The only people who’d turned up (as far as he could tell) were friends of Jared’s. They were still a rowdy bunch, and had already broken one chair and conducted a small ‘war’, hurling peanuts, tiny cheesy biscuits, and even hummus at each other, but that was mild compared to the mayhem that could have gone on.
He stood at the kitchen sink, hands plunged into the already unpleasantly tepid water, vigorously scrubbing at the baking tray the sausage rolls had been heated on. Irritatingly, his motions with the scouring pad kept synchronising themselves with the doosh-doosh-doosh bassline of the uninspired crap that came thumping out from the stereo and set the glassware rattling in the dishrack. That should have ranked quite low on the list of things currently annoying Andrew, but this seemed to be one of those times when a minor frustration managed to overshadow the more serious ones.
Washing up was a pretty miserable way to be spending the evening, but it seemed like the least bad option. And what did that say about the state of his life? Nothing good, for certain.
Despite what the posters had said, he was not welcome at the festivities. Being in the same room as the partygoers would have made him a target for insults, humiliation, and possibly drunken violence after a while. So, with participation ruled out, that still left the question of what he should do.
He didn’t want to risk going out and coming back to find the place a wreck, and the sounds of jeering and cheering and music emanating from the lounge would have been too distracting for him to get anything done in his room. Jared being Jared, Andrew was going to have to clean up the mess from the party sooner or later anyway, so he might as well make a start on it now.
“How much are they paying you to do that?” asked an unfamiliar female voice.
Andrew turned to see a young woman leaning against the kitchen table. Petite, with short brown hair, she was a good deal more conservatively dressed than any of the other female partygoers, in a dark blue cardigan and a long grey skirt. Quite pretty, he thought, and inwardly berated himself for making any kind of judgement based on her appearance.
“I’m not a hired help. I live here, and will still be living here after Jared’s gone, so I’m trying to do something to stem the tide of chaos.” He winced to hear the sound of breaking glass. “My name’s Andrew, but you can call me Canute.”
She smiled at him. “Wait there for a few minutes. I’ll pop through and see if I can get things to quieten down.” Her gaze roamed across the buffet overspill at the end of the table. “Don’t eat any garlic bread.”
She vanished into the lounge. For a few moments Andrew stood staring at where she had been standing, wondering what she’d meant by that last comment. He could only think of one reason why anybody would want to discourage someone else from getting garlic breath, and considering his track record in matters of a romantic nature, he found it hard to believe that she could have any such interest in him.
Again he attacked the tray with the scourer, so intent on trying to dislodge the baked-on pastry that it took him a few minutes to notice that the noise from the adjoining room had ceased. Dropping the tray into the water to soak, he dried off his hands and went through into the lounge.
It was deserted, apart from the young woman in the cardigan, who was sitting on the sofa, looking in the direction of the kitchen door.
“Wow!” He attempted to peer round the sofa, just in case everyone else was hiding behind it for a prank, despite the impossibility of such a feat. “Where’d everyone go?”
She grinned. “I suggested that they might have more fun at a nightclub, and they obviously agreed.”
“And they just left without telling me?”
“Would you have wanted to go with them? Spend money to have a lousy evening with a bunch of arseholes you can’t stand?” She pouted. “When you could be sat here, getting to know me better?”
Still incredulous, Andrew picked his way around the debris to join her. As he drew closer, she patted the seat next to her and nodded encouragingly. He sat where she’d indicated. “Thank you.”
Her eyes, which Andrew noted to be hazel, met his. “Tell me about yourself, Andy.”
Though he started by observing that there was ‘Not a lot to tell’, it wasn’t until almost twenty minutes later that he became aware of how long he’d spent talking about his life (not that it merited such a positive label, what with the unfulfilling job, scarcity of friends, excess of time spent lurking in online communities…). Dammit, why wasn’t he at least trying to appear less of a loser than he really was now that he’d met a woman who was actually willing to spend some time with him?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that,” he mumbled. “How about you?”
“Oh, it’d take ages to tell you everything. For now, this is all you need to know about me.” As she enumerated each point, she put out a finger, the palm of her hand towards Andrew. “Firstly, my name’s Helen. Secondly, I’ll be moving in here with you now that your shithead flatmate is leaving. And thirdly, I’m a vampire.”
Andrew was so startled by Helen’s second point that it took several seconds for the third one to register. Eventually he said, “You don’t look very… vampiric.”
“We don’t all go in for the Goth thing, you know. But as regards the fundamentals… Some things have been distorted or exaggerated in the stories. Still, I get a very bad allergic reaction to garlic and sunlight. I can’t enter a house without an invitation, so it’s a good thing I saw that poster before you took it down. I can influence humans’ minds, which is why you’re still just sitting here chatting nicely with me rather than trying to run away or phone for the police or an ambulance to take me off to a padded cell. And, of course, I feed on blood. Humanely, when I can. You don’t need or want to know the gory details, pun not intended.”
Andrew gulped.
“Oh, don’t worry. I have no intention of draining you. Wouldn’t have bothered with the small talk if I did. Now I’ve gotten to know you a bit, it’d be like slinging a family pet into the casserole.”
“Then what? Are you going to turn me into a vampire?”
“No way! I don’t think I’ve ever met a male vampire who wasn’t a complete tosser. Especially these last few decades. Anne Rice has got a lot to answer for, and don’t even get me started on Stephenie Meyer.” She scowled, banishing any doubt about her not being fully human. “In any case, I need somebody mortal to do the things I can’t. Life, or whatever you call it, has got a lot easier since the internet took off, but there are still occasions when online and virtual transactions won’t do the trick, so it’s good to have a docile little human to take care of that stuff. My last one got too old for the physical exertion, so I had to let him go—and no, that’s not a euphemism for killing him. I can give you directions to the retirement home, if you want to check.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He didn’t relish the thought of a glimpse of what the future held for him.
“It’s your decision. But I will want you to represent me at his funeral, when the day comes, so it’d be better if you got to know him first. I won’t force you, though.”
She stretched languorously. “By the way, controlling minds always turns me on, which is another good reason for keeping you alive. It’s so much nicer having a warm body in the bed. Anyway, that’s enough chat. Which way to your bedroom?”
He found that he could stand, and led Helen out into the hall, where he unlocked the door to his room and let her through.
“I might take this one for myself,” she said, after a quick look around. “It’s on the shady side, and those are good, thick curtains. But we can sort that out later. Right now what I really need is a good fuck.”
Andrew gave a slight squeak.
“What’s the matter? You’re not still a virgin, are you?” She saw the expression on his face. “You are? I wish I’d known: I could have given you a slow, seductive build-up for your first time. But by now I’m way too horny for that, so I’ll just have to take away your hang-ups and inhibitions.”
Helen turned and stared into Andrew’s eyes. “You may not harm me. Or yourself. Beyond that, release whatever you’ve been repressing and bottling up.”
A tsunami of desire engulfed Andrew. He kissed Helen hungrily, his hands roaming over her body, fumbling to undo her clothes. They stripped and tumbled into the bed, Helen coming on top. Her body felt pleasantly cool rather than cold.
Andrew fondled her breasts, caressed her back, squeezed her buttocks, subconsciously noting what she responded best to, all the while eagerly thrusting up into her while she rode his erection. Just as he thought he couldn’t hold out any longer, her eyes locked onto his, compelling him to keep going for just that bit longer, until he gave her the release she sought and, almost instantaneously, felt his own climax exploding throughout his entire body.
In the aftermath they cuddled together, kissing again. Andrew’s tongue explored Helen’s mouth, its tip tentatively tracing the shape of one of her elongated canines, flinching away from the point in case it could break the skin. A fog of weariness rolled into his mind, and his body relaxed in her grasp as sleep overcame him.
The sound of the front door slamming woke Andrew. He shifted, and Helen snuggled against him.
From the direction of the lounge, he heard Jared exclaim in annoyance. Heavy, rapid footsteps followed, and the door to Andrew’s room flew open, showing Jared silhouetted in the glare of the fluorescent bulb that lit the hall.
“It’s like a pigsty through—”
For a moment Andrew wondered if Jared had been struck dumb by the unprecedented sight of his flatmate in bed with a woman. Then he realised that Helen was transfixing him with her gaze.
“Yes, your party guests did leave the place in a terrible state,” she said in a threatening tone. “You’d better start cleaning up their mess, hadn’t you?”
His jaw hanging slackly, Jared made a vaguely affirmative sound and turned away towards the lounge, letting the door swing closed.
“That was amazing,” enthused Andrew. “I’ve never seen him accept a telling-off like that before.”
Helen moved astride him. “Now you’re mine, nobody gets to treat you with disrespect any more. But like I said, controlling minds gets me horny, so I hope you’re up to a repeat performance.”
Andrew licked his lips. “Before we start… It looked to me as if Jared’s a bit hungover, maybe feeling slightly fragile.”
“So?”
“I was wondering, is there anything I can do that’ll make you particularly… vocal in expressing your enjoyment?”
“That’s nasty. I love it!” She grinned, showing off her fangs. “Would I be right in thinking that you’ve never gone down on a woman?”
“No… I mean yes, you are right, I haven’t…” Andrew felt his cheeks grow warm.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, at least for a man with your limited experience. But do you at least understand the basics?”
“Er, I think so.”
Her eyes drew him in. “And you don’t have any problem with doing it.” A statement, not a question. Whatever Andrew’s feelings on the subject might have been, her words were now absolute truth, and his mouth began to water at the thought of getting to please her in such an intimate manner.
He leaned up and kissed her on the mouth. Their tongues tangled briefly, and then Helen pulled back. “Are you sure you know what you’re supposed to be doing?”
“Absolutely.” Tilting his head to one side, he kissed her again, this time on the neck. “I’m just taking the scenic route.” The next kiss was on her collarbone. “I believe it’s called ‘foreplay’.”
Helen placed her hands on his shoulders, gently steering him towards her left breast. He took her nipple into his mouth, alternating sucks and licks until the increased pressure of her hands indicated that she was eager for him to move on. A swoop of his tongue caressed the underside of the breast before he moved his head down and a little to the right, spacing out the next few kisses like buttons on a blouse, and teasingly probing into her navel with the tip of his tongue.
Her grip tightened, the pressure became a push, and hair brushed Andrew’s chin, lips, and nose as Helen hurried him to his destination. The musky, faintly metallic scent that filled his nostrils inflamed his desire, and he ran his tongue up the length of her slit, savouring the salty taste, before sliding it into her, questing for the spot that would enable him to push her over the edge into ecstasy.
Her hands moved to his head, guiding him towards his goal, and she let out a first high-pitched cry as he found the sensitive nubbin he sought. Tension built inside her with each caress of his hot tongue on her clit.
She was on the verge, he could tell, and he gave a shocked gasp of disappointment as Helen’s hips suddenly bucked away from his face. His confusion gave way to delight as she smoothly moved down his body and slid onto his engorged cock, thrusting against it to trigger her climax. Giving vent to an animalistic cry of satisfaction, she continued to take her pleasure from Andrew’s rock-hard shaft until he also came, adding his voice to hers in orgasmic exultation.
With a contented, “Mmm,” she slumped beside him.
A profoundly satisfying groan of despair floated down the hall.
“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Helen whispered.
“What, to make love twice in one night?”
“No. Such vindictiveness.”
“I think lots of malicious things,” confessed Andrew. “Never dared to try doing any of them before, though.”
“I might have to fine-tune your inhibitions a little. A touch of viciousness is fine, but there will be situations where you need to curb those impulses: I can’t have you upsetting my solicitors, even if they are a bunch of pompous pricks.
“Shall we go out and see how Jared’s getting on with straightening up the place? It won’t get light outside for a while yet, so I’ll be fine.”
Andrew pulled on some clothes, and Helen wore his dressing gown, making it look far sexier than he’d ever imagined it could be. They went through to the lounge, which was not much improved from how it had been when they last saw it. Jared was picking items of food off the floor, taking them to the bin, and dropping them in. Andrew rolled his eyes, retrieved the dustpan and brush from the cleaning cupboard, and threw them to Jared.
“Are you going to help?” asked Jared.
“I just did.” The lack of guilt at leaving the job to someone else felt incredible. Not up there with sex, but a delight all the same.
Jared sullenly began sweeping up.
After a little while, Helen commented, “I do like to see a man who’s properly domesticated.” There was a hint of flirtation in her tone, prompting a wounded look from Andrew, but he subsided as she gave a slight shake of her head, combined with a predatory smile.
For a while she continued to encourage Jared. At first this inspired him to become more vigorous in his cleaning endeavours, but then his efforts slowed, he started to chat back, and signs of his old self began to show. Andrew’s stomach churned as he watched Jared turn on the charm, but the occasional warning glance from Helen kept him from taking any action.
Once Jared started boasting about the new job that was taking him up-market, Helen made impressed noises before asking, with a tinge of disappointment, “So do you have to leave today? No chance you could stick around a little while longer?”
“I guess I could put off my departure for a day or two—given the right incentive,” he leered.
“So will you be letting the landlord know of your changed plans?” Her tone hardened. “Or did you not give notice of your imminent departure?”
Jared’s mouth flapped, but no words came out.
“So, what was the plan? Slope off, cancel your rent payments, and let Andy take the flak when the owner gets angry about the unexpected reduction of income? Naughty, naughty!” She wagged a finger at him in disapproval.
Andrew watched, wide-eyed, torn between rage at Jared’s scheming and admiration of the way Helen had caught him out.
“I only…” started Jared, but Helen cut him off.
“Now, here’s a better plan. Once you’ve got this place looking nice, you contact the landlord and let him know that you’re leaving. And tell him you’ve arranged for… oh, your cousin to move in instead. And that you’ll be paying her rent for the first couple of months. And then you can pack up your things and piss off to your new home and your new job, and at the end of this quarter you can stop paying for here. Does that sound all right to you?”
“Yes,” he whimpered.
“Good boy. Now, back to work.”
Andrew gazed at her in adoration as Jared resumed clearing up the mess. “You are incredible.”
She seized him by the arm and headed for the bedroom. “Praise later. Sex now.”
Once Andrew had satisfied Helen again, and they’d basked in the afterglow for a while, she nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. “We’d better go through to the kitchen before the sun comes up. You need to get a decent breakfast inside you before I reset your inhibitions, so you’ll have enough stamina for the follow-up.”
As they passed through the lounge, they saw Jared on his hands and knees, trying to scrape dried hummus off the carpet. Andrew smiled at Helen. “Absolutely incredible.”
“It’s not difficult to bend petty, selfish people’s minds. Though if you’re not careful you can break them a little bit.”
They carried on into the kitchen. “Anyway,” continued Helen, reaching for the frying pan, “breakfast. You know, even though I’m not into solid food myself these days, I can still whip up a mean omelette.”
She ran her tongue over her upper lip. “And while you’re enjoying that, I might pop back into the lounge for a quick bite to eat.”