The Vampire's Sugar Baby

Chapter 5

(Holden’s Point of View)

It feels rather silly to admit, but attending these soirees feels like a nice little vacation. It’s not where individuals like me tend to gather religiously, but they really should. Well, perhaps they should if their intentions were as mild-mannered as mine. There’s something comforting being around people who are living double lives, hiding their true identities, and hoping to find a beneficial partner…whatever those benefits might be. It’s also comforting to find myself in a place where I am not the biggest monster in the room.

I sat at the end of the bar and ordered a glass of Moscato. The bartender asked if I wanted to start a tab.

“It’s on the house,” I answered cooly.

“Sir?” I c****d my head to face him and looked him dead in the eye.

“It’s on the house,” I said slowly. I could see his eyes gloss over as he fell into a trance. He stared at me, silently, for half a second.

“It’s on the house, sir,” he repeated. I smiled.

“Good.” I sipped my wine as I scanned the rooftop at the men who looked 10, 20, or even 30 years older than me, but in actuality were many decades younger, as they tried to impress practically mere children with their wealth.

Some of these men were poor old bachelors who’d lost their families due to prioritizing their jobs over their loved ones. Some were still married and just didn’t give a damn. They were more honest with their sugar babies than they were with their own families. Then there were those who were truly grotesque. They were the men who made these events fun.

The last time I attended a POT Meet & Greet I came across this young fellow, in his mid-thirties, with slicked dark hair, waving cash around like an absolute i***t. I could hear the women whisper to each other to stay away from this one. His name was Thomas Allen, and he had a reputation in the city for throwing his own wild parties. Parties that incidentally ended with multiple women being assaulted or disappearing completely. He had his own messy criminal history of hurting women. That night he ended up in the city morgue, after drunkenly hurling himself out of a window…at the suggestion of yours truly.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally reprehensible by vampire standards, I don’t make it a habit of killing people, even the bad ones who deserve it, and I only drink from people who consent. Unfortunately for me, getting consent from someone who I haven’t compelled to say yes is extremely difficult. Hence, why I come to these things. Women are looking for a benefactor, and for that reason, they are more open-minded.

As I took another sip of my wine, my eyes caught sight of a woman. She was young, but not younger than the majority of the women here. She was talking to a young redhead and an older gentleman who kissed her hand. Could he be her sugar daddy? I’d seen him around a few times, Franklin Anderson. He was harmless enough. A flirtatious divorcee whose adult children barely spoke to him. He liked to spend time with young beautiful women, and spoil them. I watched her blush as he kissed her hand, and I felt as though nothing would be better than to be Franklin Anderson at that moment. She was perfect. Her lips framed a smile that could only be described as angelic, and her dress showed off every perfect curve of her body. I could easily fit my hands around her tiny waist and pull her into me, holding her there for eternity if she’d let me.

“Hey there stranger,” I heard a saccharine sweet voice that was trying way too hard to be seductive say to me. Peeling my eyes from that mysterious girl was difficult, but I turned myself around on my barstool to face the nightmare that the voice belonged to. I gave her a charming smile that hid my disdain.

“Hello love, good to see you again.” I lied through my teeth.

“I was hoping I’d find you here.” she bit her lip in a tiresome attempt to be sexy.

“Erika…”

“Nadia!” She corrected me, insisting I use her ridiculous fake name. I smiled, irked.

“Nadia, it really is good to see you, but I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment.” Erika, or Nadia as she insisted on being called in front of other potential POTs, was the first sugar baby I met when I arrived in Dallas 4 years ago. She started out as a nice enough girl with a daddy fetish and a broke college student. After a few dates and a shopping trip, I finally decided it was time I asked her for what I wanted. I confessed to her that I was a vampire and that what I was looking for in a sugar relationship was her blood. I compelled her not to tell anyone about what I was or what I asked of her, but I let her choose of her own free will to let me feed off of her. She was more than happy to consent. Turns out she was an extreme fan of all those vampire romance movies and television shows and was all too ready to commit herself to me. She was insistent and desperate for us to have s*x, and even after nearly 200 years, I was nearly daft enough to go along with it. I knew there was no desire within me for anything beyond her blood so I refused her. Unfortunately, she had delusions of becoming my vampire bride and I had to end it. Since then, she’s adopted this ridiculous gothic look. When I met her she was a bubble gum blonde. Now she looks like a dominatrix on Halloween.

“Holden, let’s go inside…find a room. I can preoccupy you with something much sweeter than anything you’ll find out here. Besides, I’m sure it’s been a while since you’ve been able to feed from a supple neck.”

“That is a wonderful offer, Nadia, but no thank you.” I stood up from my chair and turned around hoping to find that woman I had seen, but she was gone.

Damn Erika.

(Charlotte’s Point of View)

As Ali and I explored the rooftop patio, I started to relax. The view really was spectacular from up there, and they had tiny snacks that were small enough for me to try all the different kinds without feeling too full. Alison was deep in conversation with two gentlemen in their mid to late fifties who were actually really nice. Both had dad bod’s, with the smaller man being bald, and the bigger one having a full head of salt and pepper hair. Neither was really my type but they were incredibly successful and actually seemed like likable people. The one who was bald offered to get me a drink, but I declined, citing my gastric sleeve, to which he replied that his wife had had it done 3 months prior.

“Ali, I’m not interested in married men.”

“Relax, they’re not all married, just stick to your boundaries. What are you comfortable with?” I thought to myself before I spoke.

“Definitely single. Someone who is willing to go on a date or two before any talk of s*x occurs, maybe something like a normal dating situation, where if there is any spoiling it’s normal, like dinner, or pays for something out of the goodness of his heart. Like a real relationship. I don’t want anything transactional. I have my own money, I don’t want money or gifts to be anything more than a benefit.”

“Okay, all good boundaries, totally doable with the right guy.”

“Also, no one over 57.”

“57 huh?” Ali looked at me surprised, “that’s very specific.”

“Right well, Robert Downey Junior is 57, and if I could have him as a sugar daddy I would definitely sign up, so if a man is 57 and looks that good, I’m okay with that.” Ali laughed.