The Auction
A glimpse into an ancient romance...
It was the third blonde in a row, and it was beginning to grow old.
“If only they had some idea of diversity at the Auction! What’s a vampire to do but begin to wonder if there’s some kind of agenda going on…”
Her husband had seen this before. Every few decades she begins to lose the plot—forget their reason for being.
To indulge of course.
“You must lower your expectations, darling. You’re just getting yourself worked up again. If you don’t want a blonde this time, you don’t have to have one.”
Simple.
She looked at him: “The last time I did that was two hundred and fifty years ago… I ended up married.”
“Ouch… my dear…”
“I’m sorry, darling, I’m just irritated. I haven’t eaten… I was saving for something exotic, but I just keep getting American food.”
“You never learn, dear—you did this last time and we ended up splitting my Chinese. I had to eat on the way home. You promised to be better.”
She sat on his lap now, no longer interested in the Chastity that was sleepwalking past their booth.
“Charles, my dear, you would have stopped anyways…”
He smiled. “True! I have been known as insatiable from time to time.”
“Do you remember Gettysburg?”
“My darling, that was yesterday. Of course I remember.”
Her cell phone began to vibrate his lap.
“No work, please. You said… it’s our anniversary.” Pleading in his eyes.
“Lot 63—Amber.”
“Another American?” she asked without looking.
“Could be, though I don’t see a gun. It’s so hard to tell sometimes.”
She went to the bar cart and poured herself something.
“I was hoping for something darker.”
She made him one too, as he liked it.
“We can see what’s next, my love. It’s our bicentennial and a half. I’ll give you a moon person if they stumble in here.”
“You couldn’t get me a moon person.”
Charles was offended.
“Could too. They’re quite common. You haven’t had one?”
Kaleya wasn’t sure if she was up for banter.
“You’ve never shown me one. Why have you denied me this delicacy when you know my ennui is unmanageable? It is the cure for my constant affliction.”
This hurt the velvet-draped hulk.
“It tears me down that you are so dissatisfied with my company. I try to help.”
She softened. Sometimes she forgot how sensitive he could be. “You’re right. And I’m sorry.”
Back onto his lap now, and deeply into his eyes she thought to him, piercing his soul with the love that had hardened for centuries. If he were not to exist, she would actually mourn.
They embraced, inhaling the only intoxicant that could still thrill these old souls.
“Lot 64—Guadalupe.”
“You want to hit the hospital tonight. We can play Doctor…”
“Good idea. Perhaps we can work in nephrology.”
Charles’s interest piqued. “Dialysis? Mmmm, perfectly cleaned. What a treat.”
“Maybe we’ll see one of your moon men.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “You don’t want a werewolf and you know it. It’s better you never met one…”
Then he realized he had a chance to excite her for the first time in a very, very long time.
“In a week. We can go down to the pound and take a look, ok, darkness?”
“My love, we are not yet halfway through our journey. Five hundred years at least for me to be satisfied.” Charles sparkled.
“Lot 65—Mohammed.”
“Yuck, a man. Take me away, Count. Show me the moon and stars, again and forever.”