Count

22. My First Vampire Orgy

When Sergio said we were going to meet some friends of his one evening, I had no clue what to expect.

"They host a party called the Eternal Ball," he said. "It's here in London, so I thought we might drop by. As the name suggests, it is always open."

An endless vampire party. "That sounds cool," I said. "What should I wear?"

I donned a short, tight, black dress because Sergio said the event had "a lascivious air," which is a polite way of saying it was slutty. My curiosity and something else were aroused.

Sergio insisted on the whole car ride there that we could leave anytime I wished, and I assured him that I would be fine. He was in a weird mood, and part of me wondered if this party were some kind of test.

The mansion housing the Eternal Ball was a caricature of vampirism, like a casino imitating what it thought vampiric mansions should look like. Gold scrollwork wound around onyx pillars, and hedges were cut in the shape of bats. Everything was black, red, or gold.

The inside was no less opulent—an assault on my senses. 'Hedonistic' was the word that came to mind as I took in the velvet divans and chaise lounges divided by fluttering red curtains. The house smelled like blood and perfume. Somewhere, a live string quartet played a salsa. I kind of loved it.

"Welcome to the Eternal Ball," Sergio said.

An honest-to-goodness butler stepped up to take my wrap. "Thank you," I said.

Sergio asked where the hosts could be found, and the butler pointed us in the right direction.

So this was how vampires spent their time, I thought, trying not to gawk at the characters we passed. A male vampire in a formal suit drank from a woman's wrist. Two women I could only assume were vampires from their stunning good looks made out sensually on a couch. On my left, behind a beaded curtain, a devilishly handsome man fucked a nearly-naked woman from behind; he caught me watching and winked.

Cheeks burning, I scurried after Sergio.

We came to a ballroom of silver and black marble, but as in the other rooms, there were more places for lounging than there were for dancing. It seemed the "Ball" in "Eternal Ball" was a moniker only. The few couples that were dancing were arrayed in an outlandish variety of costumes: from full Elizabethan gowns to dresses that barely covered the necessary parts. Men wore tailcoats and top hats, tuxedos, or pairs of pants and nothing else.

"Ah, here is our lovely hostess," Sergio said.

I whipped my head around, eager to meet the person behind this event.

One of the most gorgeous women I had ever beheld said, "Sergio!" crossing the room with a walk that radiated power and elegance.

"Inari, this is la Duchesse Carmilla."

"Please darlings, just Carmilla," she said when she reached us, kissing first Sergio then me on each cheek in greeting. Her accent was French.

Carmilla had deep mahogany skin dusted with gold powder so that it glowed. Her hair was in braids, and her skintight gown was slitted in several places to display her ample curves. She appraised me with sharp, bewitching eyes and spoke to Sergio. "Isn't she just the cutest thing. Where ever did you find her?"

"Carmilla," he replied, "this is Inari Yamashita. We met in London, though she is originally from America."

"And I speak, too," I said bravely, having just regained vocal capacity.

"Ooh, très magnifique!" She looked me up and down and purred, "Tell me, Inari, are you by any chance bisexual? I just want to devour you whole."