y eyes sprang immediately to her as I strode into the room.  She stood aloof from the rest of the party in the corner with a glass of Coke in her hand.  I tossed my black leather jacket over a chair, took off my shirt and threw it into my room, and adroitly flicked my necktie over the narrow pipe traversing the room, "I'm glad to see that the party hasn't started without me," I commented completing my grand entrance.  Immediately all attention in the room swung towards me, towards the disturbance in the fete.  "Don't let me interrupt you.  Drink and be merry."   I walked to the refrigerator in the corner of the room next to the beautiful woman.  As I reached down to pluck a Rolling Rock lager from the laden fridge, I examined her toned legs.  Her mid-calf length black leather boots stood in stark contrast to her pale complexion.  Shifting my glance higher I gazed into her exquisite visage.  Her face, framed by flowing raven tresses, was dominated most prominently by her brown, greenish-tinged eyes.  Her smile, pearly-white and resplendent, was in turn framed by her voluptuous lips with a dark, almost blood red-lipstick.  "Can I Irish your Coke, mon cheri?" I inquired.   "Hmmm?" - her detached response.  As if awakened from a dream, she turned her gaze on me.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  I was day-dreaming.  What was that?" she murmured sexily. "You can't day-dream at night...what did you say your name was?"   She replied, "I didn't, but my name is Adrienne.  And you are?..."   "Your gracious host,” I replied.  “My name is Clark, John Clark.  And my question was, would you care for me to Irish your Coke?"   "Do what to it?" She confusedly queried.   "To Irish: verb, transitive.  To add a splash of Irish whiskey to a soft drink to improve the taste and complexion of the beverage."   "A gentleman and, apparently, a scholar.  Rare.  I think I will.  I don't usually drink, but college is the time to start after all."   I splashed a half shot of Jameson into her coke and deftly popped the top off my beer.  Passing her the newly “Irished” beverage, I asked her, "Now, how do I know you.  Or do I?  I'm quite horrible with names, faces - err... I guess that's pretty much everything, isn't it?"   "No, Mr. Clark, this time it's not your fault.  I'm a friend of a friend.  I'm a friend of Erin and Karen.  They are running late, but they told me that I simply had to meet you, and that they would find us later."   "Ah, that would explain the proliferation of black.  I suppose that you are Goth as well."   "Yes, I suppose it does and yes I am."   “But aren’t you too hot for black, ah forgive me, Freudian slip, isn’t it a little hot for black though, Celine?"   She politely laughed at my obvious complement and replied, "First, it is never too hot for black.  Would you say the same to a priest?"   "Probably… I'm an asshole like that.  An asshole, but a stylish asshole nonetheless."   "Well, second John, you yourself are wearing black."  I'd forgotten that I myself was wearing black, albeit, not a black mesh shirt with a short black skirt like her.  I suppose in retrospect that I myself seemed rather Goth-ish that evening.  I was wearing black pants with shined black shoes, a black tee-shirt, and a black leather jacket.  The blue shirt that I'd been wearing earlier lay discarded on my bed.   “Third, you haven’t seen all my clothes yet,” she returned with her own flirtation.  Somewhat embarrassed, I took a swig of my beer to fill the awkward ensuing silence.  Rob rescued me from my embarrassment by slapping me soundly on the back and crying, "Now this is a nice party bro!  I didn't think we'd get quite this many.  Hey, who's this?"   "Ah, forgive me," I replied to Rob, "This is Adrienne.  She's a friend of Erin and Karen."   "Ah, more people to drink our beer!" Rob sarcastically cried with mock despair, "Oh, shut up!...here, have another beer."  I returned with mock anger.  I reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of Busch Light “beer.”   While inside the fridge, I shook the can vigorously but withdrew it calmly.  Rob hadn't noticed my antics. I took a step back putting my hand around Adrienne’s waist and pulling her with me.  Rob yanked the pull-tab back and loosened a torrent of pseudo-beer.  The spray narrowly missed Adrienne and myself, but hit Rob dead-on.  I stifled the urge to laugh hysterically and instead chose to squeeze Adrienne’s waist and wink.  “Holy shit Rob!  Careful with that.  What is Western Liquor selling us these days?” “Shit:” Rob’s simple and declarative response.  He walked out of the room and into his room that branched off the large common room in which we were standing. As the party swirled around us and time passed, Adrienne laughed politely at my horrible jokes, bad puns, and generally incorrigible sense of humour.  Throughout the night, I saw a glint in her eyes, a playful half-smile that drew her pouting lips into an angelic expression.  The night flew by in a collage of snippets of conversation and flirtatious banter; I found her reserved demeanour gradually melting away and found my flirtation frequently returned.  We flitted throughout the party introducing Adrienne to the assembled group.  Adrienne had a few more drinks, but at most, only two alcoholic ones.  I, my incorrigible self, had quite a few beers and took part in more than a few rounds of shots. Around two-thirty in the morning, Adrienne asked me, “John, be a dear and see me to my room.  I think I’ve had a few too many tonight.”

“Sure.  Let me just grab my coat and tell Rob and Steve that I’ll be back in a little while – you know how it is with roommates.” I grabbed my coat off my bed and found that Rob had slipped in behind me.  With a pleased expression on his face, Rob shoved something into my pocket that felt oddly like a condom and said, “That chick, Adrienne, or whatever her name is, she really seems to be all over you.  You leaving with her?” “Yeah, I’m just going to walk her back to her place.” “Very likely John, very likely,” Rob sarcastically replied.  You have fun, don’t bother coming back tonight.  Throw some numbers up on the board for the home team.” “I’ll be back in half an hour at most, and that’s only if she pukes.  Tell Steve for me, will you?” I walked out of my room and back into the common room, quickly collected Adrienne, and swept out the door with a flourish.  I immediately noticed that she seemed very hands on.  She leaned against me as if she was significantly more intoxicated than she should have been.  No matter.  I thought to myself.  It’s her first time drinking.  Not everyone is a God of the bottle like you and Rob.  We stumbled down the stairs and out of the building, but not before we’d stop so that she could nuzzle my neck at every stair landing we reached.  We walked out into the brisk Poughkeepsie night. On the way towards her dormitory, on the edge of the campus, Adrienne found it necessary to sit on a secluded bench underneath a massive oak tree.  I called her attention to the expanse of stars above, and, since liquor stimulates my penchant for lyrical speech, I waxed poetic for some time about the moon and stars and man’s insignificance in the Universe.  She listened intently – staring deeply into my eyes as if looking for something lost in them.  Then, in mid-sentence, she abruptly stopped my poetic profusions by thrusting her tongue deeply into my mouth and kissing me passionately.  Taken somewhat aback, I froze.  This usually doesn’t happen to me, I thought.  But I wish it would more often!   “Hey, sorry, you just kind of caught me off-guard Adrienne,” I stammered apologetically. “It’s okay,” - her seductive response. We returned to kissing deeply, exploring each other’s mouths with inquisitive tongues.  Some time later, I stopped our impassioned kissing.  “Adrienne,” I said, “I should really be going.  Let me take you to your room and I’ll call you tomorrow.” “All right,” she reluctantly agreed.  “Let’s go.” We made our way, her hand in mine, towards her remote dorm.  We walked in via the rear entrance and began to mount the stairs up to her room.  God, I thought to myself, Why does she have to live on the sixth floor?  It’s practically the attic!  We finally reached her door, and I noticed the number and laughed to myself.  Room 66 on the sixth floor!  I also noticed that there were only two other rooms on the floor, not counting the bathroom. She fumbled with the key before finally jamming it into the lock and throwing the door open.  The room was oddly decorated, the walls, originally a horrible college-dorm-room-white, were completely covered in a type of red wallpaper.  The room was dominated by posters of black clad figures, most prominently, Neo, from The Matrix.  Conspicuously absent, I thought to myself, was the quintessential gentleman spy, James Bond, in his classic black tuxedo.  I voiced sentiments to that effect and, in response, she pushed me down onto her bed.  She swung the door shut with her foot and clicked the lock. I jokingly quoted a line from a classic James Bond film, “I’ve no problem with female authority.” Adrienne’s eyes seemed to flash and brighten after hearing this.  She coyly pointed at me and walked right up to the edge of the bed.  “Very good Mr. Clark, that’s important to me.”  She then jumped on the bed, straddling my waist with her lithe legs.  She discarded her shirt quickly and started kissing my neck with renewed vigour.   Even in the throes of passion, I caught something odd out of the corner of my vision.  Her eyes, usually an enrapturing green flashed red.  Then, a scant few seconds later, she rose above me thrusting her pelvis against me.  She smiled a particularly enchanting and disconcerting smile… It was now dominated now by a pair of razor sharp fangs.  Struck by the despondency of my position, I could do little but attempt to restrain the cry of horror that welled up inside me like a daemon seeking release.   She put her index finger up to her lips and then to mine, shushing me.  She spoke these words that resonate in my consciousness that resonate to this day: “Tonight, your life ends, and you are born anew amongst the elect – into the chosen.  Enjoy your last night in this body.” Although my fear was far from assuaged, a sense of recognition, my acknowledgement of the hopelessness of my situation washed over me.  Resigned to my fate, I accepted her embrace and kissed her passionately – if these were my last hours of life, I wanted to enjoy them more than those that lay behind me. My shirt and pants and her fishnet stockings found themselves neighbours of Adrienne’s previously discarded shirt.  She pushed my back to the pillow, put her head over my pelvis, her hair falling like a silky black curtain on my waist, and began her ministrations.  Right near the peak of my climax, I felt an intense pain sear through my body, but then, the pain transmuted into indescribable pleasure.  After she, and I finished, she tossed up her hair, kissed me tenderly and said, “Goodnight.”   I died. And awoke anew.