seymoure

Chapter 2
“The Comfort of Home”

When Emilia Rosa came home she was tired and frustrated. All day she had been forced to deal with people who couldn’t find their own noses with a gps unit. The ad agency she was working for was trying to land a new account, and not one man on the staff understood the product.

How could they? Only two (she assumed) had ever worn lace bodices, and they were fashion disasters, despite the myths of gay men being at the upper end of the taste curve.

Emilia opened her mailbox and was pleased to see the package from the “Libris Extraordinary” resting among the mundane mail. It was the collectors copy of the book she had been waiting for
this last month.

There were only 23 copies of this book known to exist and she was going to put it in her safe and let its value blossom.

She fumbled with the giant key-ring that held the safety lock key to get into the lobby of her apartment.

After the longest of moments, she was able to fumble the key in the brass lock and open the door.

Once in the door she unbuttoned her coat, kicked off her shoes and picked them up in one hand. She would at least be comfortable walking to the elevator. She hated that she had given in to the high heel thing, but that was part of the world of business, and she was damned if it wasn’t a world she was going to conquer and then change.

There was a bill from the dry cleaners, she saw as she went though the other mail on her way to the elevator.

There was also the requisite half dozen pre-approved credit applications that she got every few days. Now that she was making good money, they wanted to give her credit. When she was
divorced and without a cent, and really needed the cash, they were no where to be seen.

She pushed the button, and looked at the newest issue of The New Yorker.

When the bell rang, she looked up. In the elevator was a dark man, with red eyes. His aquiline nose offset the pallor of his flesh. His gnarled hand reached out and took her by the throat. She didn’t have time to scream, and she might not have if she did have time. She couldn’t take her eyes off the Count’s. Even as he sank his teeth into her throat and drained the life from her.

When the doors opened at the second floor the empty vessel that was Emilie lay on the carpet. To her right was a pile of mail and a book.

Virginia Bam ford, who was waiting for the elevator so she could take her poodle, Mr. Sawyer, out for his late night walk, screamed and fainted.

Mr. Sawyer made a puddle on the carpet.