POTN 1

POETRY  |  FICTION EXCERPT

Of Vampires and Gentlemen
by A.R. Morlan, art by Alfred Klosterman

Very close to midnight...

...the quiet time when even the gentle inhalation and exhalation of the twenty girls in the dormitory blended in with the nearly soundless flow of night air through sheer white voile-masked windows, the time when the darkness signified not the mere absence of light, but the addition of something missing from the sullen day; an odor that had no definite smell, a pressure in the weightless air, an added heat in a rather cool room -- it was then, in that hour that the girls had learned to dub 'the vampire time', that Elizabeth abruptly found herself suddenly, totally awake, one hand cradling a thinly covered breast, the other wedged in the place of sparsely hair-covered warmth, pressed hard into the moist nightgown-sheathed hidden spot. And, listening hard, straining her ears in the white noise of muted breathing and endless flowing air, she waited to hear him; hear the living flutter of his changeling wings, hear the rustle of his cape as it brushed against the nubby fabric of her coverlet, hear the slight smacking noise his lips would make as they parted, the thin skin of his lips slowly unsealing with an infinitesimal noise, a sound meant for her and her alone. Then, then would come the dry rasp as her sheet was lifted from her crisp nightgown, the fragile sound of his dry, cool hand brushing against the lace trim near the buttons on her nightgown... and Elizabeth wondered if buttons made a sound... as they were slipped out of the buttonholes.

That part she hadn't thought of, hadn't imagined, hadn't heard from the other girls. Nor had she told the other girls in her class about that part, during the time she claimed that she, too had had a 'vampire time'... and, luckily, none of the others had thought it an important enough thing to ask about.

Now, as she lay, every inch of her body tensed, warm and ready, waiting for the soft sounds of his coming, his time with her, Elizabeth told herself that this time she would really, truly know exactly how everything felt... not that they hadn't believed her before. She had almost believed herself, too, and that was the worst part. Elizabeth didn't want to risk letting the fantasy become too good, too perfect to give up... and it wasn't her fault that the vampire had waited so long to come to her, had waited so long for their time.

Opening her eyes, closing her eyes, it made little difference. Elizabeth settled on eyes half closed, a sexily dreamy expression that she hoped the vampire would find pleasing. That he must find pleasing. She kept the covers drawn up under her chin like the other girls did. Under the covers, her hands worked silently, slowly, until the moistness spread across the wrinkled folds caught in the twisted hair, and the cloth spread over her chest was taut, flesh working against the tightly woven fabric. Through her slitted eyes, Elizabeth could see the window across the dormitory, the one that faced her bed, and she watched for a darkness to flutter into view behind the filmy curtain. And remembered, as she watched, and waited...