How Not to Vampire - Season 1

7. It's a Bitter Sweet Symphony

Pro-Tip for Humans #188: Don't piss off the guy who can make you disappear.

Blink...

Boobs. All good bar crawls need to involve boobs at some point. I don't know how I had ended up staring at the faceful of full, round, and perky boobs only inches from my face, but I could only assume it was pure luck on my part. A moment later, a finger under my chin gently but firmly tilted my face upward. I could only smile happily at the owner of the boobs, a very pretty Thai girl with a spray of glitter on her face and a head of platinum blonde hair down to her ass that contrasted sharply with her brown skin. Most likely suicide blonde: dyed by her own hands.

"See something you like?" Suicide Blonde teased and wiggled ever so delightfully in a way that made her boobs boob ever so boobily. She was a tall girl and the backless slinky silver dress was barely enough to contain her boobs. If she raised her arms, there would have been a lot of sideboob on display, and I wasn't complaining.

"I have no idea how I got here, but I am never leaving," I said drunkenly and happily.

"So, do you still miss your ex's boobs?"

"The words, 'not-at-all' come to mind," I lied, the faded memory of Jaime's small and perky boobs flashing across my consciousness. There it was, that pang of longing that came from thinking about Jaime and I tried to shake it off, after all: boobs. In. My. Face.

"You're sweet," Suicide Blonde flirted.

"Harry's going to skin this guy if he catches him in between your boobs like that," a bored sounding voice spoke up behind me. I looked past Suicide Blonde to see who was determined to ruin my enjoyment of such a wonderful and giving paid of boobs. It was a tall leggy brunette who wore a similar dress to Suicide Blone, but she had not been gifted with similar boobage. She stared at her phone, idly flicking through the screens as if to communicate just how bored she was of this entire situation. Her eyes flicked toward me and they were merciless and condescending as fuck.

"Oh lighten up," Suicide Blonde said, "no rules against having fun."

"And just when I thought your standards couldn't get any lower."

I was about to say something pithy and no doubt extremely witty and cutting, but I caught sight of the entire bar for the first time and the words died in my mouth.

The place was huge, almost cavernous with ridiculously high ceilings that somehow still had excellent acoustics for the karaoke singing that was currently in progress.  Apparently we were in some kind of karaoke bar that was clearly compensating for something. The enormous stage at the front with the numerous stage lights looked more suited for a huge jazz band than for a singer with a microphone and a monitor. Even with the enormous neon sign that proclaimed "Karaoke at HTDK" (with the HTDK in a rendered logo), it was clear that karaoke wasn't the main business of this club. There was a visibly drunk middle-aged Chinese man on stage, slurring his words through a drunken version of Sweet Child of Mine. The striped tie around his forehead made him more idiotic instead of looking like the rebel he had been hoping for.

The bar itself looked like an old factory of some kind that had been converted into a nightclub. The second-floor overhang started at least 30 feet up. It overlooked the entire first floor with a solid floor-to-ceiling wall of thick black glass. It sent the clear signal that upstairs was exclusive as hell, and if you weren't invited, you weren't wanted.

Across the black glass, a projected logo alternated between the HTDK logo and the words "The Hall of the Drunken King".

We were sitting at a low circular glass table in comfortable couches that in turn encircled the table in four rounded sections. Claude sat directly across from me with his arms around two girls who also wore the slinky low-backed shimmery silver dresses that seemed to be the costumes of these particular club girls. They both had long legs that went on for days and sent the signal that they were either very expensive call-girls or models. I don't know why I thought that, okay? They were tall, skinny and I was drunk, so whatever.