The Cleansing

Stacy1 was a blood-sucker — and proud of it! She could latch on to someone; and, if she was careful, they wouldn't even know it! She'd nibble with her fangs and paw with her needle-like claws. Out with the old and in with the new. She loved the sweetness, the saltiness, the umami of it all. The bitterness didn't bother her. She'd just let it flow through her. She'd draw out blood and ichor and let her body take what it wanted. What she injected back would be better by far.

Stacy smelled her prey a mile away. She stifled the urge to spread her wings but hopped on her baby-blue Vespa instead, dreadlocks flying. The stench was intoxicating. Whatever was wrong was very very wrong. It reeked this side of three-day-old carrion. Holy Helena, she hoped it wasn't garlic halitosis. She wasn't up to bad-breath and lip-lock today. Oh... she'd been there and done that but didn't want to do it again — even knowing that she could, should and would.

She was wearing her red and black checkered frock just in case she spilled a drop or two. She was proud of her profession2; she didn't like stains. Her favorite launderer never asked questions but they were expensive and the alternative, pre-soaking and scrubbing by hand, was tedious and time-consuming and — she had a party to go to at midnight.

Stacy wove through town and there... There Stood a Man. Buff, tan and beautiful. She sashayed up to him and smiled. Can I buy you lunch? Direct was always best. Give them no chance to think overly much or misconstrue her intentions. Her mouth had earned the title Miss Understood in 10th grade. Tact... she was told to learn tact. Never did.

They ordered mushroom-cheese pizza and exchanged pleasantries while they waited. His name was Karloff. He was 27. He worked too much. He was single. Stacy always knew how to draw people out and always wore a special-order perfume that calmed them. She had nicknamed it "Before the Bite" as a private joke. When she told people that? Some laughed. Some groaned. Some faked shock... before she sunk her fangs into them.

He opened up about how folks teased him to get a life, a dog, a girlfriend. Stacy read the tell-tale signs of a self-locked closet... key lost. Oh, he would be tasty. But, he was shy and into guys. Hmm. Not a problem. She smirked and offered to give him a hickey in public so the town bullies would back off.

And... lo-and-behold. Ask and ye shall receive! A burly guy gave her the come-on eye. She gave him a stink eye in return. He started to snicker. Stacy just embraced call-me-Karl in a head-lock and chowed down. An older waitress laughed. Someone shouted "get a room". He was bug eyed as she guided him to a back table where she could take her time. She would need time. This case was serious and complicated.

Hepatitis never tasted good. Type A, type B, type C... n'importe pas... never good. And that reek of sulfur3? Karloff's liver was struggling. She sucked harder as her needle-like claws dug deeper into his thigh4. Good. He did have nice thighs... She welcomed his blood into her body, told her liver to do its job... and quick. The waitress had a worried look on her face. Karloff was a special shade of pale. But... better than yellow, Stacy thought.

Finally. Bad blood removed, good blood transfused, she sighed and gently let Karloff go. The look on his face was serene. He smelled better too.

He smiled shyly. Got a brother? Stacy tossed her dreadlocks and roared. Heads turned their way. But, Stacy didn't care. She'd done her good deed for the day. She'd be able to report this to the Greater Minneapolis Grand Council. In a hundred more years they might even accept her penance for having bit their leader5... a bit too long and hard.

777 words

Footnotes
1  Not her real name... to protect the guilty
2  Well paid kidney dialysis technician by day; volunteer dialysis by night
3  "Fetor hepaticus occurs when your breath has a strong, musty smell. It's a sign that your liver is having trouble doing its job of filtering out toxic substances, usually due to severe liver disease. As a result, sulfur substances end up in your bloodstream and can make their way to your lungs."
4  Like dialysis
5  Gustave Flaubertson, born circa 1500, moved to France, came to Sweden with the Bernadottes and ventured incognito to Minnesota in 1878 with a group of ragtag Swedes; met Stacy and his demise (they were "interrupted" before she could give him back his blood) in 1933