Chapter 1A

Kim Simpson stood outside the large wooden door of a luxury apartment by Central Park. She wrapped her knuckles on the heavy door. Her first knocks making almost no noise, she hit the door harder with her third and forth swings. This time the door resonated deeply as the sound echoed down the hall. Kim snatched her hand away, embarrassed, and looked up the hall to see if any other residents noticed.

Looking down at the polished stone floor she suddenly regretted the way she was dressed. She was meeting a girlfriend, who'd apparently met a rich and sexy older man that she wanted to show off, for a late dinner and Kim didn't want to go all the way back home to get changed before heading to the restaurant. And since she hadn't had a boyfriend in almost eight months she dressed to show off her best attributes.

Kim was a tall, slim, attractive woman raised in New York by a Hawaiian mother and a German father. Genetically she was lucky. She carried the fine features, smooth dark skin, and thick luxurious black hair of her mother's family with the height, body tone and large breasts of her father's side.

Standing here in these opulent surroundings though she felt a little, well, trashy. Her long hair surrounded her oval face, made up to accentuate her Asian features because she thought that it made her appear more exotic. She wore a simple gold chain with a solitaire diamond on the end that hung just low enough to draw the eye to her cleavage that was visible through the curve of her sky blue spaghetti strapped halter top. That top showed off her breasts but, thanks to the built in support, kept her nipples from showing too much and making her look really slutty. She covered the top with a small jean jacket to at least try and look business like. She accentuated her long legs by wearing a mid thigh length, tight black mini skirt and a pair of platform strapped sandals. The outfit was perfect for a night out man hunting with her girlfriends, but seemed out of place given her surroundings.

"Well fuck them!" She thought to herself. This was a last minute call from her editor to handle a story for what was lovingly known at the water cooler as the freak show, but the paper called the 'Night Desk'. "I should never have answered my cell."

She had to interview some old rich guy with a fantastic supernatural tale for love, loss and sex. In five minutes he'll turn out to be some phony creep out for his 15 minutes of fame. She'd take a couple of notes, tell him she'd have to review the story with her editor, and make a run for the cab and dinner.

Kim hated these assignments but she knew that for every favor like this she did, she would get a good assignment. With a few more section one stories under her belt she could move on to her real goal, TV. That's where the money, and the fame, was. She had no illusions that it was her brains that would allow her to make it in TV; it was her face and her body that the networks could market. She'd already done a few fill-ins for the local network and they were interested in adding her as a fill in anchor when a space opened up.

With a sigh she turned around to quietly knock on the door one last time before leaving only to find the door was open and a tall thin man standing in the opening. Startled, Kim gasped with shock and took a step back.

"Oh my..." She said flustered. "I didn't hear you open the door."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, please, come in won't you?" The older man said gesturing her to enter.

"Oh, no, you didn't, I mean, thank you..." Kim answered timidly as she allowed herself to be ushered into the apartment. She initially stepped into an entryway covered in dark polished stone. An expensive painting dominated the one wall; it appeared to be authentic, and very expensive. It depicted a beautiful teenage girl, probably only 15 or 16, in period lingerie from sometime in the 1800's. What really kept her attention was the expression on the girl's face. Her face was a perfect mask of composure but her eyes told a story of unbelievable ecstasy, and utter abandon. Kim found herself drawn into the image, her mind trying to make sense of the competing expressions. It was as if the room faded into the background and she was alone with the painting.

The deep clunk of the door closing behind brought Kim back from the image of the girl's face. She blinked, not sure how long she had been staring at the artwork.

"May I hang up your jacket for you?" The man said from close behind her, his hands already touching her shoulders.

"Yes, thank you." Fuck! I forgot what I was wearing thought Kim, but she had already started taking the jacket off.

The tall man took her jacket from her and, passing close behind Kim, hung it up in the closet. As he passed behind her he exhaled, his breath making a slight whoosh. His cool breath washed against her bare neck causing the hair on her body to prickle and her nipples to harden. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms while trying to subtly cover the hard nibs pressing against the blue material.

'Don't get spooked out girl.' Kim thought to herself. 'He's just a creepy old guy wanting a little bit of fame from a two bit local rag. You weren't thinking when you took off your jacket so now you look like a bimbo, OK, but this is your interview, take control.'

"So I understand you have quite a strange story to tell." Kim said confidently striding into the living room area. "Why don't you give me the overview, then we can narrow down on the details." That way I can get the broad strokes and then blow him off.

The living room was expansive, expensively furnished and captured a beautiful view of Central Park framed by the city's lights. Kim chose a nice red leather club chair, sat down, pulled her notebook out of her purse and made a few initial notes.

"Handwritten notes, I'm pleasantly surprised..." The man said as he sat back in the matching couch to the side of the chair. "I expected you to pull out a tape recorder, or a computer."

"Well, I like to take my own notes; I find that a taped interview loses something in the translation." Kim answered, shooting him one of her dazzling smiles. The truth was that she used a notepad because she couldn't afford a laptop, or a recorder. And besides, a notepad was a much better prop on the TV.

This was the first time Kim had really looked at her interview. He was an older man, probably in his 40's, but in good shape. He had a long slim frame, but his movement hinted at a good physique underneath the designer shirt and pants. He wore no socks, probably didn't need them in his expensive Italian leather loafers.

"Where are my manners Miss..." He started.

"Oh, Simpson, Kim Simpson, I should have introduced myself." Fuck, strike two, bimbo.

"And I'm Tom Michaels; it's a pleasure to meet you." He said smoothly but didn't offer his hand or make any movement. "Can I get you a refreshment? Tea perhaps? Or I have some wonderful single malt whiskey if you would like."

"Whisky..." Kim answered firmly, pausing for a moment. 'Can't let him think I'm weak.' "... would be fine."

As if on cue a servant brought a small silver tray. Dark liquid swirled around a pair of matching crystal tumblers as the woman offered it to Kim. The servant was strikingly beautiful, dressed in a tight black skirt and blouse showing off her long legs and ample cleavage. She should be modeling, not serving drinks Kim thought as she took a glass. The woman turned and placed the tray on the table in front of her employer.

"Thank you my dear, that will be all for the evening. You may retire for the night." The woman drifted out of the room quietly, leaving nothing but a gentle breeze of perfume, as the man turned his attention back to Kim. "I must admit Miss Simpson, I'm aware of who you are. I specifically asked for you to write this story."

"I suppose I should be flattered." More like creeped out she thought, still, she felt a tingle of arousal at the thought of being singled out by such a wealthy man. She took a sip of the potent liquor, letting the vapor swirl in her nostrils. Its heat spread down her throat, into her belly and throughout her body. This was very potent, and very good whiskey. It took a few moments before she was able to continue.

"Let's get down to business shall we?" Kim said. "My editor didn't really give me any background on your story. So let's take it from the top."

"Miss Simpson." He said slowly and deliberately. Clearing his throat, he looked her in the eye. "I am a Vampire."

Kim smiled, trying not to actually laugh. "A Vampire." There was no beating around the bush with this guy; he was a nut job from the start. This wouldn't take long at all.

"Yes, that is correct." He said smiling at her.

His smile was really quite engaging thought Kim; he's quite attractive. Nonetheless, he's a nut job.

"You mean, you go to Vampire clubs, dress in black, hit on Goth chicks? That sort of vampire?" She asked, still trying to keep a straight face.

"Believe me," he answered cordially, as if fielding a question from a small child. "I understand that this is rather hard to believe, but I'm a real Vampire."

"The undead; sucking blood; turn into a bat. Real Bela Lugosi stuff huh?" For the first time Kim worried a little about her safety. His maid was in the other room, but best to wrap this up and get her little ass out of here in case he planned on draining her blood.

"I'm afraid you've watched too many movies." Michaels said calmly, not at all upset by her incredulous tone. "I don't drink blood, turn into any animals and, as you can see," he sat up and spread his arms, " I'm very much alive."

"I'm not sure why I should believe you in the first place." Kim said firmly. Still, it might make for an interesting story even if he is a nutcase.

"I can promise you that I will back up everything I say." The slim man sat back into the thick cushions of the couch almost as if knowing that she would stay for his story. "And, I can also promise a story that will change your life."

Images of herself sitting at a TV anchor desk, interviewing world leaders, partying with rock stars, flashed through Kim's mind. "OK, I'm listening Mr. Michaels. But any funny stuff, or if I smell a scam, I'm out of here. I have a friend expecting me in an hour and she knows where I am." Kim lied about the last part; only her editor knew where she was. If anything happened to her it would be too late to do her much good on Monday.

"Excellent, I'm so glad to hear that you'll stay and listen to my story." He said with a satisfied grin. "As I said, you will not be disappointed."

"OK, so were you born a Vampire? Or were you bitten and became one like in the movies?" Kim started, readying herself to take notes. Her nipples were still hard, distracting, pressed up against her top. 'I must be giving him a nice show', she thought. 'He doesn't seem to be staring at them though. Maybe he hasn't noticed them... or maybe he's gay.'

"I was made, but not by a bite." Michaels said with a little chuckle. "You really have to put all that Hollywood nonsense out of your head. You see, Vampires do live of the life force of others, but not through the drinking of blood, but through the intake of life force."

"Life force..." Kim repeated. Despite his wild tale, he was very interesting. "And just how does that work?"

"Through sex usually. Vampires live off the life force of others, through copulation." He said.

"Hey! I said no funny..." Kim started to get up, too fast, she felt a little dizzy, grasping at the arms of the chair to keep from falling. She suddenly felt very much at his mercy.

"No funny stuff, we agreed." Michaels said reassuringly. "You are my guest, I asked you here to listen to my story, not to do you any harm."

Kim sat back down. Perhaps she was overreacting. He seemed to be a perfectly civilized gentleman. He was really pretty attractive in his own way. "I'm sorry. But you have to admit this is a pretty freaky story you're laying out for me."

"Why don't I start at the beginning, tell you my story, how I became a Vampire. All I ask is that you let me complete the first part of my story. After that you can draw your conclusions and decide if you would like to hear more." He settled down and began to paint a picture for Kim. "I was a young man, 23. I'd just returned a few months ago from the service..."

"Gulf War?" Kim interjected.

"No, Second World War. I was an infantryman at the Normandy invasion."

"But that's impossible!" Kim said incredulously. "You can't be over 50, at the very most!"

"I was there, I can show you the pictures later. I lost my kid brother and my father to the Nazis." He answered seriously. "I returned to a pretty devastated family. My mother had been working in the factories making aircraft parts; she was in a weird sort of denial at the loss of my father two years before. And my kid sisters, a year apart, well, they were turning into young women, not the bratty little kids I had left. Kids rebound pretty well, but these girls had lost half their family. One threw herself into her studies and school sports. The other became a bit of a wild child, blew off college, worked as a waitress and played the party scene."

"This is fascinating, assuming, of course, you can back it up." Kim said, leaning forward. Despite being completely impossible, he did weave an interesting story. She found herself staring into his eyes as he continued. She felt warm now, no gooseflesh, but her nipples still pressed hard against her top.

"I'm afraid I wasn't much help either. After spending almost 3 years at war I had a hard time adjusting to life at home. I moved out pretty soon after returning." He explained. "There used to be this skinny little pain in the butt girl who was a freshman in my high school when I graduated. She'd bug me in the halls; had a huge crush on me, you know how it is. Well, I enlisted the day after I graduated and didn't think much about her. Then one evening, about a week after I returned home I ran into her at the movies..."

"And she wasn't so skinny anymore?" Kim interjected, smiling.

"You got it." Michaels smiled back. "Let's just say she had filled out rather nicely. Long story short, we got together, and were married within a month."

"That's so sweet!" Kim said brightly. "Did it last?"

"Not really, that brings us to the reason for our meeting." Michaels said becoming serious again; a cloud of sadness briefly crossed his face. He took a big breath before continuing. "Your story truly starts... on the day that my life... ended."

Kim watched him intently. His eyes seemed to sparkle; he had the air of a much younger man than he even appeared. This was a fascinating story, but there is no way he could be, well, in his 80s. A man in that age wouldn't give her the vaguely warm and moist feeling between her thighs that this man did. Kim listened as his words filled her.

Tom arrived home as he usually did on a Friday afternoon, tired, dirty, and hungry. He opened the door to find his beautiful young wife Mary waiting for him.

"We have to leave in ten minutes! Hurry and get changed!" She said as soon as he walked in the door.

Mary was the epitome of the all American girl. She had bright blue eyes, a warm smile filled with white teeth, freckles on her nose, and a mane of long red hair. Tom had first met her when she was an awkward skinny kid, 4 years his junior. She had grown into a stunning beauty with large firm breasts, a slim waist, well-rounded hips, and long shapely legs. She was the kind of woman who made heads turn wherever she went. She could have any man she wanted, certainly could have married one with more money. But she only ever had eyes for Tom. From the moment she saw him, that tall strutting senior, she had decided he was the one.

Tonight she was dressed in her blue fitted dress, silk stockings and high heels to boot. It was as if she was going to a party. It was Tom's favorite dress on her. It hugged her curves and showed off her cleavage. She looked like a movie star whenever she wore that dress.

"Huh? I mean what's the rush? Are we going out?" Tom said as she hustled him into the small bedroom.

Mary's eyes seemed to stare off into space for a few moments before she answered slowly. "I met a nice couple today at the market and they invited us over for drinks tonight." After a few moments she seemed to snap out of her daze. She reached up and undid the buttons of his shirt. "I hope you don't mind, it's just that we have so few friends..."

"No, not at all, sure. Just let me get washed up." He answered. Even after a hard workweek the sight of his beautiful wife pulling off his clothes caused his penis to stir in his boxers. "Say... how long do we have before they get here?"

Mary looked at the tent his penis was erecting in his shorts as she pulled down his pants. She patted it through the cotton and stood up. "Not that long." She said a little playfully. "It'll take a few minutes to get there and we need to leave. Now go get washed and I'll lay out some fresh clothes for you."