Page 47 of Bite Me
“No. It’s not.”
11
OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN
EDDIE
Chinese fairytales as old as 300 BC tell stories of young women who fell in love with blood-drinking demons and gained immortal beauty as long as they remained their mistresses. Similar stories appear in Hindu mythology, Central European folklore, and even Maori traditions.
The legends about immortality and humans changing into vampires are often interconnected. During times when human life was more fragile than today, vampire longevity and slower aging, immunity to human diseases, and the capacity to heal superficial wounds were deemed supernatural. While mankind was decimated by plagues and wars, the vampires survived, appearing nearly immortal. Understandably, if it were possible to turn into a vampire, some people would willingly do so.
Another possible source of the immortality and transformation myths is the long-term effect of the venom. While there is still little research in that area, high and repeated exposure to vampire venom over a prolonged period of time might have positive effects on human health, such as lowering blood pressure and cholesterol levels, and even decreased risk of some cancers. However, these benefits are also, without exaggeration, attributed to frequent and satisfying sexual intercourse. Whether the venom can slow down some symptoms of aging is disputable.
Psychoanalysts in the early twentieth century famously recommended vampire bite as a cure for hysteria and a variety of other neurotic symptoms in women. It went unsaid that the bite was accompanied by masturbation or, more often, intercourse with a vampire. Medical circles were in agreement that a human woman couldn’t be impregnated by a vampire and that vampires didn’t carry sexually transmitted diseases. Together with meager knowledge about female pleasure—some physicians and sexologists of the era even denied the existence of female orgasm—these facts led to the rise of one of the most fascinating moral paradoxes in human history. If a married lady visited a vampire establishment, it was not considered adultery as long as it was for therapeutic purposes.
In the twenties, some dinner clubs began promoting themselves as spas, and the human guests would pay a significant fee to become dinner. The vampires who worked in these clubs were considered healers, received a hefty salary on top of the supply of willing prey, and some even gained notoriety for their perceived quality of venom and healing skills, in other words, their sexual prowess. The myth about the rejuvenating effect of vampire venom was once again in circulation, much to the benefit of the vampiric community.
Rising religious conservatism during the Great Depression slowly pushed vampire clubs into illegality until the sexual revolution of the sixties.
* * *
Helen and Pierce were apparently determined to become my most difficult clients ever. They were invariably good to me, but when they revealed the name of the baby’s father, I wished I could have turned back time and studied to become a vet.
Charles Carlsson Jr. rose to fame playing hothead action heroes, and word had it that his real-life personality wasn’t far away from the characters he portrayed. He must have been a funny antidote to Pierce’s dark pragmatism. As soon as his promo tour ended, he would land in our lap, and we would have to explain to him that punching a paparazzo was not good PR. He needed media training, even though trying to teach him the strategy would be like teaching a cat to fetch.
“I owe you an apology,” Pierce told me.
We were in the same suite at the hotel where we’d first met the clients, but we’d spread out a workstation in the living room this time. The sofas were more comfortable. Helen sat by Pierce’s left, her hand casually resting on his thigh. Russel took a seat by my side, just close enough not to appear inappropriate but still make me hyper-aware of him.
Surprised, I blinked at Pierce. “I’m not aware of anything that would require an apology.”
“Charlie will live with us,” Helen said. “As soon as his promotional tour is over, he’s moving in. Had we decided to lie about the nature of our relationship and my pregnancy, that wouldn’t have been possible.”
“I was rude to you and underestimated you,” Pierce insisted.
“You were just protecting your family.”
Pierce Black was walking, talking charisma. All that intensity aimed at me made me fidget like a schoolboy in the principal’s office, no matter if he praised or criticized me. I moved a prepared folder toward the couple, almost toppling Pierce’s water glass in the process. He steadied it, offering me a rather wolfish grin.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I stammered out. “We have the social media posts announcing the pregnancy ready for you to review. Feel free to comment or ask questions. Take the folder with you and look at it in peace. We still have ten days, so no need to stress about it. It’s most important that you’re comfortable with the content.”
“We’ll need your help to navigate the press after Charlie joins us.” Helen looked a little sheepish.
“He’s already let it slip in an interview that he has had sexual experiences with both women and men,” Russel said. “Did he tell you beforehand he was planning to come out?”
Pierce heaved a mighty sigh, but he was smiling fondly. “He did not.”
“I think he was trying to help,” Helen said.
Russel smiled back. “I hope he’s willing to do the media training with us.”
“If he caught you suggesting what he said was stupid, he’d storm out of here like this.” Pierce snapped his fingers to drive his point home.
“We’ll leave it up to you how you want to bring it up with him,” I said. “Once the public makes the connection between Charles Carlsson staying at your house, admitting his bisexuality, and Helen’s pregnancy, he’ll face much higher pressure.”
“I think he can be persuaded to listen,” Helen said.
“We won’t force him to behave in a way that would contradict his character and values. But we can help him recognize warning signals when facing the media and prepare safe reactions beforehand.” Or at least I hoped we could.
