A Vampyre's Sunrise by Jeff Schanz (read book .TXT) 📖

through their stomachs. Lia had no idea how to be a friend to women. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to hide her anxiety.

The two ladies approached, waving to Lia. She smiled and lifted one hand to wave again. The two ladies took seats at the table.

Marge was a lovely black woman with shoulder-length hair, a flower print blouse, and white pants. She was curvy, heavier than she would like, but wore her weight well. Celia was an attractive mid-thirties Caucasian woman with a fitness model’s figure and ash blonde hair that was probably not her natural color. The short, snug dress she wore was an attempt to make her trim figure trimmer than it should be.

“Oh, honey, look at you!” said Marge.

Lia was confused, but glanced at herself.

Marge giggled. “I mean, we’re already jealous of how you brought back old fashioned romance writing, but honey, are you trying to bring back the fashion too? You look like you stepped right out of one of your Victorian novels. Such a pretty dress.”

“Oh, this?” said Lia, spreading her gloved arms wide. “This is far from Victorian. It is much simpler and a mix of things. Really, I think it is a poor representation of what I can make.”

“Make? You made that?” asked Celia.

Lia nodded. “Except for the gloves. My husband bought those for me.”

Marge fanned herself with a napkin. “Girl, you are too talented for your own good.”

The waiter appeared and everyone ordered a variation of salad. Glasses of water were brought, along with a bottle of wine, then the ladies were alone again.

Celia leaned forward. “I haven’t worn a full-length dress since I was in high school. The only good thing about ‘em to me was that I could have sex with my boyfriend and no one would know.” Celia laughed to herself. “We’d go outside at lunchtime, I’d sit on his lap and the dress would cover us while I played rocking chair.”

Lia looked at Marge for further explanation, however, Marge just shook her head and rolled her eyes a little.

“You did this where people could see you?” asked Lia to Celia.

Celia shrugged. “What could they see? The dress covered us. They couldn’t tell I was naked underneath.”

“You wore no undergarments?”

Celia shook her head. “Not at lunchtime. They’d secretly disappear around that time, then appear back on me afterward. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t wear any at all if these skirts weren’t so short. You wear any?”

Marge seemed content to stay out of this part of the conversation. Lia was on her own to answer. She heard Brandt’s advice in her head: Just be brave and go with it. “Most times. Though, sometimes I just prefer the hose.”

Celia looked stunned. “Pantyhose? I didn’t think anyone wore those anymore.”

“I do not think what I wear is called that. I’m not sure what they’re called actually.”

Celia made a finger motion for Lia to show her. Lia glanced around, then lifted the edges of her dress up. She wore the colorful leggings she had worn that morning and had simply put the dress on over top.

Lia chuckled. “Father would’ve rolled his eyes at me, but I rather like them. They are very comfortable.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” exclaimed Celia. “Leggings with no panties under a dress. You’re a trendsetter, sweetie.”

Celia held up her hand for a high five and Lia touched her hand to it, but wasn’t sure what she was expected to do.

“I hardly think I am setting any kind of trend. If anything, I am considerably behind.”

Celia shrugged. “It’s all bullshit anyway. We kill ourselves trying to keep up with fashion, but all guys want us to do is go around naked.”

“That is exactly what my husband told me. I told him that was impractical,” said Lia.

Celia smiled and shrugged. “I’d do it if I could get away with it.”

“Well, I can’t during the day,” said Lia, a little wistful. “But I do like to sleep that way. I believe my husband appreciates it.”

“Ooo, honey, I’ll bet he does,” said Marge. “He probably tries to wake you up at all hours,” said Marge.

“I am normally the one who keeps him up. But once we finish…” Lia realized she had gone much farther than she had intended, but she knew she had to complete the sentence. “…Afterward, he sleeps very well.”

Marge fanned herself again with the napkin. “Mmm hmm. That man does not deserve you.”

Lia pinched up her shoulders bashfully. “That is what he tells me. But I believe it is only modesty. He knows that I love him with my very essence.”

“Oh, now I know he doesn’t deserve you,” said Marge.

Lia blushed.

Marge changed the subject and asked Celia about her drive in, which turned into a debate over who had worse traffic. Lia hoped they didn’t ask about her own traffic experience. She wasn’t normally interested in traffic or driving times, she was too busy soaking in every detail of what she could see from her car window, uncaring about how fast or slow she was going. Plus, she didn’t want to bring up the fact that she got chauffeured everywhere. Although she was capable of getting her driver's license, she had been afraid, deciding to get just an ID until she could muster more courage. Then once the security team came on board, they insisted they accompany her on her errands, so it ended up that they simply drove her in her Ford Explorer wherever she needed to go. It was convenient for both her and the security team, but she worried that people may see her as stuck up or snobbish.

The salads came and Celia dug in ravenously. Marge looked unhappily at hers, poking a tentative fork into a wad of lettuce.

“This better make me look like Rihanna soon, or I’m going to give up and go get me some barbeque,” said Marge.

Celia said, “I actually like salads, just not as the only course. But these hips ain’t staying in this dress without work.”

Lia picked at some vegetables and chewed on one. She was trying to go very slow in hopes she wouldn’t have to consume the whole meal. Marge and Celia would have no idea about her vampyre system’s aversion to food, and she didn’t want to call attention to it.

“Thank you for agreeing to sit here in the darker corner of the restaurant,” said Lia. “If it wasn’t for my – condition, I wouldn’t ask.”

“Oh, that’s alright, honey,” said Marge. “We’re just happy to be out. All I ever do anymore is sit around and write my trashy books. It gets me all worked up, and then… Oh, never mind, I just need to get out more. So, I’m glad I’m here.”

Celia grinned. “Yeah, well. I’ve read your ‘trashy’ books. I wish mine were half as good.”

“You liar,” said Marge. She shoveled half the plate of salad into her mouth at once, then chewed. “Honey, your stuff could qualify as illegal in some states. Whooo!” Marge pretended to fan herself.

Lia chimed in. “I have read both your works.” Both ladies looked at her expectantly and Lia tried not to blush. “They are very – inspiring,” she finally said.

“There ain’t nothing to be inspired about in my books,” said Marge.

“No, no,” said Lia. “You misunderstand. They inspire – certain feelings.”

Marge stared at Celia, who stared back and eventually grinned impishly. “You mean they get you hot?” asked Celia.

Lia blushed crimson and subtly nodded.

Celia laughed raucously. “Oh, don’t you dare be ashamed of that. That is the best thing you could possibly tell us. We want them to get you so wet, your panties qualify as lakefront property.” Celia once again placed her hand up for the high five. Lia guessed right and slapped it this time. “There ya go! Thank you!”

Marge laughed too. “Property of that lucky man of yours. I hope he appreciates it.”

Lia continued to blush, then nodded again. “Sometimes I read those kind of stories aloud to him.”

“Oh, hell yeah, I like that idea,” said Celia. “Naked I hope?”

Lia nodded. “I don’t get to read very far.”

Marge let out a deep booming laugh. “I hope the hell not. And he better do the same for you.”

Lia’s blush deepened. She tried to shrink into her chair. “Yes.” She noticed they were staring at her in rapt attention, waiting for further details. Just be brave and go with it. “He doesn’t get to read very far either.” Lia dropped her eyes to her salad, acutely aware of how far past her comfort zone she had gone.

“Oh, no way, girlfriend,” said Celia. “You’re not stopping now. Details, details.”

Lia looked up hesitantly. “Girlfriend?”

“Of course,” said Celia. “We’re girls, you’re our friend. Duh.”

Lia beamed. “We are friends?”

Marge laughed again. “I already told you, I don’t get out enough. And Celia gets out but – all she does is chase men.”

Celia said, “Hey!”

“Girl. You know it’s true, now hush.” Marge had her hands on her hips.

Celia shrugged. “Ok, it’s true.”

“Mmm hmm,” said Marge. “So, we don’t have any good girl friends. I’ve only got her, and she tolerates me, so – you’re kind of our first in a while.”

Lia clapped excitedly. “I love this! We are all friends now.”

Marge smiled and held up her glass of wine. “Sure we are.”

Lia lifted her glass to clink Marge’s glass.

Celia did a throat giggle. “You two are hilarious.” She lifted her glass and joined the clinking.

They all sipped at their wines for a moment.

Celia asked with an impish grin, “So, now that you’ve teased us about the fun you and your hubby have, I’m curious if all that good, old fashioned romance you put in your books is from real experience and not just imagination. Hmm?”

Lia froze a little, wondering if they had guessed her real age. “Oh, of course not. My husband is only twenty-eight. I, uh… We are not from the Victorian age.”

“You know what I mean,” said Celia. “I read your latest book. That man of yours sounds almost as sweet as that Viking lover you wrote about. What was his name? Errol? Errr – rotic?”

“Erik,” said Marge.

“Right. We all write from what we know. I’ll bet Erik has a lot in common with your hubby. You know, maybe his sweetness, or his toughness, orrrr – perhaps his prowess at certain nighttime activities?” Celia was looking like a cat burglar staring at a museum diamond.

Lia was not picking up on Celia’s elbowing. “But Erik is only a figment of my imagination.” True enough for that particular character, but not so much for the hero of her first novel who was entirely inspired by Brandt.

Marge chimed in. “Honey, don’t mind her. She’s just jealous cuz you’re happily married and she’s a man-hungry ho.”

Celia narrowed her eyes pretending offense. “And you’re not?”

Marge lifted her glass and shrugged. “I wasn’t denying nothin’,” she said in a demur voice.

Celia turned to Lia who looked concerned. “Ah, sweetie, I’m just nosey, looking for juicy stuff I can borrow for my books. I like to pry into other people’s sex lives. So, if you ever feel like spilling anything –.”

Lia asked, “You wish me to – inspire you?”

“I think she’s got it,” laughed Marge. “And we’ve gone and corrupted the poor girl. Just cuz we can’t get some ourselves, we’re tryin’ to peek in her bedroom.” Marge held her hand to her chest, she was trying to stifle her laughing.

“Speak for yourself,” said Celia. “I’m getting plenty, but – I do want to be her. Look at her. She looks like a Calvin Klein model. I’m mean, is that a size zero dress?”

Lia’s blush ignited into full force.

Marge pretended to slap at Celia, and Celia did the same back. To Lia, Marge said. “Honey, you’re gorgeous. We’re just jealous. Don’t mind us.”

Celia had an idea. “Do you have any good pictures?”

“Of whom?” asked Lia.

“She wants to see your man, honey,” said Marge.

“Brandt? Well…” Lia dug in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I have photos on this device. Is that ok?”

“Juicy ones?” asked Celia.

Lia