Shocking Conclusion of Crimson Club!

See previous post for opening of this story!
http://bloodygoodvampires.blogspot.com/2012/02/starting-today-serialization-of-my.html

Suffice it to say I had acquired a stable of vampires--male and female—beautiful creatures all of them and with voracious sexual appetites.

We do have our fun.

They were installed in my club. The club was located on Half Moon Street in Mayfair. There were doormen and domestics, I had chosen myself--not vampires but trustworthy noninterventionists.

We did not need moralists!

Now about les spectactles!

There have been of late some widely popular books and stories written with vampire themes. I must say I enjoyed all of them!

I did notice a growing fascination with the vampire cult. There had even been some brutal murders that the police said involved vampires or those who thought they were vampires.

This was of great interest to me as mortals cannot be vampires. It just isn’t possible.

With all of this interest, I had the idea to create a drama if you will. I would provide a vampire killing to be witnessed by those prepared to pay me for my trouble--hence my club.

Within barely a month I was swamped with applications--some of which came from government--the police included.

Sacre bleu! I shall not be troubled with the police then I thought!

So there you have it. I have explained the basics, have I not? Now we get to the client, the client of all clients—the aristocrat whose family luckily for him were not French.

He came to me one day. “I should like to see one of these shows of yours. I have heard tell about.

When can you arrange it?”

I told him how humbled I was—but he waved me off.

“How would Saturday midnight next suit you, sir?” I asked.

I worked fast but with great results. The girl was beautiful. Not a prostitute as many of them are, no—this one was a runaway. I had questioned myself.

The appointed time came and my client was seated in his private box which overlooked the stage.

The girl lay sleeping on a crimson colored bedspread—surrounded by flowers--she was in truth already laid out.

Three came in at one time—females all. I find the men prefer that somehow.

They were singing low and soft--siren-like songs, beautiful and haunting they sounded too. They approached her and ever so gently they drew her gown down—exposing her nakedness. I saw my gentleman straighten up, as he was quite interested.

First they began to caress the girl—in slow sensuous movements, each taking a part of her—to pleasure her as well as themselves.

She began to stir and moan but she didn’t wake, for she had been plied with liquor first.

And then it all changed.

I closed my eyes, better to concentrate and feel what they were doing to her--as their caresses turned into something else—their touch into tearing, their passionate mouths into feeding and their teeth into biting.

His Highness stood up. I could see his face flushed with excitement. I think he cried out too--though I can’t be sure.

By now the girl was screaming—flailing about. Her beautiful alabaster body was awash with crimson blood—an unending (it seemed) river of blood.

I think you grasp the significance of the word, crimson.

Anyway they fed—voraciously, hungrily—tearing her flesh drinking her dry.

I COULD TASTE IT MYSELF! That sweet nectar—so light upon the tongue an elixir of life to us!

They fed until they were satiated and lay panting.

Now, I had been paid in advance for this. So when I was told my special client wished to see me, I was surprised.

He came into my little office. “I did like it very much.”

“I am so glad.”

“I do have a request though.”

“And what is that?” I asked.

“I should like to drink the blood myself next time! Truly I should like to eat the flesh as well. Is that possible? Could that be done?”

I must say he had quite taken me aback. I didn’t know what to say! But as I had to say something I said, “Of course, sir. We shall provide you with whatever you like!”

And we did.

He was a natural if I may say so. He excelled at carnage, it was to him artistry. I had never seen anything like it.

When he left I wrote something in my journal. Something I should like to show you now. I wrote:

22 April 1884

I should like to predict this Royal Prince of England; his Highness___ will in time be known to

all the world as one Jack the Ripper, a mass murderer!

I signed it with my name.

If it does come true and I have every reason to believe it will, will you think me especially discerning?!

Ah, but I am foolish—for they would cover it up!

How sad that I make this prediction knowing it can never be widely known. How disappointing for I have always and without hesitation prided myself on my reputation.

I am aggrieved. Yet, at least you will know and that is something, is it not?!