By the time Zac arrived at the tango classroom, on the other side of the building, having navigated a labyrinth of hallways and closets, he felt like a cow that had been milked too soon. He suspected Angelina was not romantically interested in him and was just using him to open an account at the local sperm bank. He recounted the times they had sex in the thirty minutes it took them to traverse the building’s corridors. Once in the lab, another in the janitor’s closet, just outside the doorway to the lab, again, at the other end of the hall, and a final time in the men’s lavatory at the top of the stairwell.
At twenty-two years of age, he had experienced similar bouts of sexual activity but never in such rapid succession. It was the serum, he concluded, he could still feel its heat in his veins, making him feel more alive and extremely virile, and hungry.
He guessed Angelina’s age to be about thirty, using her recollections of scientific expeditions to make the calculation. To him, she was bright and cheerful, yet detached in a way he couldn’t figure out. He always felt like she was observing him, the way a scientist watches a rat go through a maze. She could turn on the sex appeal when she wanted, as he just found out…for the fourth time.
His head was reeling. He was in way too deep. In the past 72 hours, he watched a woman be torn to shreds by zombies, got shot in the chest, three times, by the Philadelphia Police Department, was brought back from the dead and turned into a human sex machine. He wondered what was going to happen next?
Dance class, he mused, how dangerous could that be?
The guest instructor’s name was Drusilla Arcula. She was from Argentina. She had thick blond hair that flowed halfway down her back and was constantly pulling on it, shaping it into a ponytail and letting it go. Her accent was thick but she took time to enunciate each word clearly. Her voice was deep and powerful, even when she was speaking softly; it was seductive.
He noticed she was very shapely and found himself lost in thoughts of lust as she guided the class into performing molinete, the very heart of tango. Each student moved around a private, imaginary rectangle, pivoting, stepping sideways, all to the beat of the music and under the instructor’s constant attention. When they began moving to half-beats and quarter-beats, Zac noticed some of the pupils struggling to keep up.
An hour into the lesson, Drusilla had the students pair off into couples and practice today’s movement: the volcada. If one of the partners had trouble, usually the leader, she would interrupt and assume the appropriate role, man or woman’s, so the other could experience the perfect response.
Zac couldn’t keep his mind from wandering into the triple X theater when she paired up with one of the ladies. Once, when she was holding a lithe young woman with curly-brown hair in close embrace, she caught him looking. She locked onto his eyes with hers. It seemed to him as if the whole room fell silent.
She whispered to him, eyeing him intensely with her dark brown eyes, “You like this?” Her eyes darted to the girl and back to him.
He was surprised by the question and glanced around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to what she said but they were oblivious to the question.
“Yes?” she queried. It was such a simple word, yet she loaded it with sensuality.
He felt himself being drawn to her like the moon's pull on the tides. His heart ached for her and the blood rushed from his head to parts south.
“No?” she asked, almost playfully, the other woman’s head buried in her chest as she led the movement.
Zac tried to respond, he even opened his mouth but no words rolled out, not even a guttural chirp. His arousal was beginning to become noticeable.
With a deep, sinister laugh, the instructor said, as she looked downwards, “Yeeeesssss, you do.” Her voice rumbled like a gentle thunder from heat lightning in summer.
He had to exit, stage right, or even to the left. Angelina spied the bulge in his pants and smiled at him, knowingly. In a moment, he was in the hallway, sitting on a bench.
He sat there, trying to think of something to calm himself down. He was distraught. He struggled not to think of the Drusilla’s thick blond hair, the sound of her voice, the compelling look in her eyes. Five minutes passed and he still had not regained his composure.
The door opened. He was not surprised to see it was her. He stared at her and could not turn away until her eyes darted to a doorway to his left, just past a wall-mounted water fountain. The sign on it read, “JANITOR.” He followed her eyes and looked to the sign, then back to her. She smiled broadly.
Grabbing his hand, she led him, like a little boy going to the zoo, into the closet. Inside, there were no cleaning supplies, instead it was outfitted like someone’s secret hiding place. It was furnished with a reclining chair, a television and a small refrigerator. Drusilla sat in the chair and pulled him into her, between her legs.
He moved instinctively, propelled by the serum mixing with his blood supply. Somehow, her breasts popped out of her shirt. Soon he was inside her. He felt her full lips on his neck, her warm, moist tongue pressed against his throat. He was enthralled, consumed. He experienced a sharp pinch and felt her fangs sliding into the meat of his neck. He could feel the blood being drained from him, yet he did not resist: he wanted her to have it.
Ms. Arcula paused for a breath of air and said, “My dear boy, I should probably restrain my appetite but you are so, so…..tasty.” The last word rolled off her lips with glee. “I have never tasted blood so….spicy! I’m so sorry, but I am going to need more…a lot more!”
With those words, she bared her fangs and sunk them into Zac’s juggler. His body spasmed as he felt her drink him in, her tongue, hot and wet, pressed firmly against his skin. Once again, he was falling into unconsciousness. What little light there was in the room, began to fade.
Suddenly, everything was illuminated. The door was open and there stood Angelina.
“Zac!” she cried, sounding disappointed. “You’re with a vampire!”
Drusilla removed her fangs from her victim, dripping blood, and hissed at the woman standing in the doorway. Cat-like, she lunged. Angelina, with the skill of a kung-fu master, deflected her body over her, rolling onto her back and planting her foot firmly into the instructor’s chest. When she hit the ground with her back, she used her momentum to toss the vampire across the hallway and into wall on the other side of the hallway.
The blond-haired woman hit with a loud thud and the vibration shook the whole building. She collapsed in a heap, her hair covering her face. Angelina guarded the entrance to the closet with her body. She stood there for a moment before turning and going to the young man’s aid.
“Zac,” Angelina said. She grabbed his arm, preventing him from falling over. She wiped the blood away from his neck to reveal two small holes, “my poor, dear lab rat. You shouldn’t mess with vampires. You can get AIDS! They really are dirty people, honestly….” Her voice trailed off as she led him out of the enclosure.
The classroom door opened and other students, alarmed by the loud bang of Ms. Arcula’s body slamming into the wall, poured into the narrow hallway. Drusilla looked at them and then to Angelina, blood still dripping from her lips and her chin. Her eyes flashed with anger, then confusion. She fled down the hall and into the stairwell.
Mustering her best Dixie Chick impersonation, Angelina met the confused stares of her fellow dancers and said, “Ahhya guess she weren’t woman ENOUGH to take my man!” She cocked her head side-to-side, lifted Zac and led him away. Reaching into her tiny purse, she produced a chocolate bar and handed it to him.
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