Short Story / Circa 1956
It was just like out of a movie.
I was busy flipping through the Ray Conniff records when I felt a hand touch mine. I turned to my right and saw the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
“Oh I’m sorry. I thought I’d just look over your shoulder while you did the flipping,” he said smiling.
“Well I can’t do much flipping when youre holding my hand,” I said, smiling back at him. He was dressed in a black suit and tie, with brilliant blue eyes and black hair that was slicked back with….
”....Brylcream,” I said.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Your hair. You slick it back with Brylcream.”
“And how do you know this?” he asked, with an amused smile.
“Because I can smell it,” I said.
“That means I’m nice and close to you,” he said, leaning closer to me and giving me goosebumps.
“Or you just piled it on like a greaser,” I said, moving slightly away.
“If I was a greaser, would I be here in the Ray Conniff section?” he asked.
“Here’s a better question – why would anyone be here in the Ray Conniff section?” I said.
“If youre not a fan, then why are you flipping?”
“I’m having a cocktail party. I hear Ray Conniff is good for cocktail parties,” I said.
“Yeah, good for a cocktail party at the Convalescent home.”
“You’re not a fan?”
“I’m a fan of pretty girls in the Ray Conniff section,” he said with a smile.
I absolutely melted! Here was this totally dreamy guy and he was flirting with me! I’ve had plenty of guys flirt with me, but no one of his caliber.
“May I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“About?”
“Your party music.”
“Oh, please do!” I said, “I don’t want to ruin my reputation by having a Ray Conniff record in my collection.”
“I think you should play the newest Frank Sinatra. It’s a great record and you can never go wrong with Sinatra.”
“True, but the swinging bachelor next door has it and he’s played it to death,” I said, walking away from the Ray Conniff section and down the aisle.
“Well, Frank Sinatra is the top choice of mood music among us swinging bachelors,” he said, following me.
“Ah, so the truth comes out,” I said, walking out of the Wallachs Music City record store and out onto the corner of Sunset and Vine.
“The truth?” he asked innocently as I put my gloves on. I sat my purse at my feet and opened my coat to put it on. He grabbed it and held it up, helping me slip it on.
“Thank you,” I said, “yes the truth. The fact that you’re a typical swingin bachelor,” I really wasn’t offended by it, but it was fun to give him a hard time.
I sauntered over to the bus stop.
“Well then, may I have the chance to prove to you that I don’t need some crooner from Hoboken to help me with the ladies?”
He was asking me out and I was thrilled! But I played it cool.
“When?” I asked.
“Right now,” he said.
“I can’t. I have to catch the bus and its the last one for the night,” I said.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Please? For coffee? Right there?” he asked, pointing to Coffee Dans right behind us.
Should I? I barely knew this guy and here I was actually considering letting him drive me home? But he seems real nice, and who says I would ever have this chance again? Besides, I was just going to go home and do what I do every Tuesday night – which was putting Stan Getz on the hi-fi, making myself some gin and tonics, and reading Ginsburg.
I decided to take a chance.
“Tell you what, do you want to go back to my place? I can make some coffee or cocktails or something…” I said, looking down at the ground.
“I would love to,” he said. He held his arm out for me to grab hold of.
So I did.
We pulled up in front of my apartment building in his brand new black Lincoln Premiere.
He got out, walked around the car, and opened my door.
“What a gentleman!” I said as I got out.
“I try,” he said, following me down the walkway, “and by the way, I love the name of your building.”
“The Copa? Its nice,” I said, digging for my keys in my purse.
“Not as nice as you though.”
I finally found my keys and I unlocked my door. I stepped in and hit the light switch.
“Make yourself at home,” I said, dropping my stuff and taking off my coat and gloves and then throwing them down on a chair.
“Oh I will,” he said, stepping into the living room and taking off his hat. I walked into the kitchen, took out the percolator, and proceeded to make coffee.
“Can I help with anything?” he asked, coming into the kitchen.
“Yeah, can you reach into the Fridgidaire and get the cream out, please?” I said as I reached up into the cabinet to find some sugar. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him looking me up and down.
“Of course,” he said, opening the fridge. I took the sugar down and went back to the stove to get the coffee.
“What is this?” he asked from inside of the fridge.
“Whats what?”
“This,” he said, bringing out the savory Jell-O Mold my mother had sent over earlier in the day.
“What? You dont like gel cookery?” I said.
“Gel cookery?” he asked dryly.
“Yes gel cookery. At least thats what the good people at Knox call it,” I said, grabbing two coffee cups and saucers.
“What they ought to call it is disgusting,” he said.
“Oh OK, Mr. Gourmet 1956,” I said, putting my hand on my hip.
“Just shut up and pour the coffee,” he said in a low sexy voice. I raised my eyebrow at him, but a smile came to his face and I knew he was joking.
So I poured the coffee.
“You really shouldnt knock it until you try it,” I said.
He came over and stood close to me, so close I thought he was going to kiss me, “Give me a spoon,” he said.
Without taking my eyes away from his, I opened a drawer and removed a spoon.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the spoon from my hand. He then walked over to the Jell-O Mold and dug the spoon into it, getting a good mouthful.
But instead of sticking it in his mouth, he brought it over and held it in front of my mouth.
I hesitated. And then I opened wide.
He gently put it in and I pulled the Jell-O off of the spoon.
I slowly chewed it.
And I couldnt even hide my disgust.
It was horrible! He was absolutely right – lime Jell-O and cukes don’t mix. I thought I had liked it, but I realized I only ate it to make my pushy, overbearing mother stop nagging. I tried to hide it – I didnt want to admit I was wrong.
I grabbed a napkin and spit it out inside of it, ever so lady like.
He ran a finger across my cheek gently, “I thought so,” he said.
My knees became that Jell-O mold and I smiled.
“Coffees ready,” I said.
We sat on my love seat sipping coffee.
“Thank you for having me over tonight,” he said, setting his coffee down on the coffee table.
“Well thank you for giving me a ride home,” I said, taking another sip.
He just smiled as he got up. He then went over to my hi-fi and flipped through my records.
“Beautiful hi-fi,” he said, “but of course, not as beautiful as you.”
I just rolled my eyes.
I set my coffee down and got up.
“And where do you think youre going?” he asked.
“I’m going to the ladies room to powder my nose,” I said, walking to the bathroom.
“Of course,” he said.
Once in the bathroom, I did my business and fixed my hair. My stomach was in knots. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I had an inkling of whats to come.
I went back into the living room. While I was gone, he had put my new Dakota Staton record on the turntable and he stood next to the couch, without his jacket and his tie loosened.
“I’m back,” I announced.
“I know,” he said, “care to dance?”
“Oh, I guess so,” I said lightly, as he held out his hand for me. I took it and we started to dance.
He was so close to me – so close I could smell the Brylcream mixing with his after-shave. I looked into those beautiful blue eyes.
And then he leaned in and kissed me!
It was such a sweet kiss. And then all of the sudden I felt his hand under my rear! I was about to swat it away and slap him, but then he bent down slightly and picked me up in his arms.
“Ahhh!” I said, totally not expecting that. I was amazed by his strength, since I wasnt the lightest person in the world. He carried me over to the couch and set me down gently. And then he kissed me again, but this time more aggressively.
I responded just as aggressively. I draped my arms over his shoulders as we kissed heavily. I felt his hands start to unbutton the top two buttons on my blouse, giving him easier access to my neck area, which he took advantage of.
While he was kissing my neck, I felt his hands slide up my legs to my garters, unsnapping them. He then took his mouth away from my neck and looked into my eyes. He looked at me with so much passion, it was frightening.
He brought his mouth back down and kissed me again.
And that was the last thing I remember.
I awoke the next morning. Actually, it was six p.m. the next evening. No matter what time it was, I felt horrible. I felt like I was drinking Fogcutters all night at General Lee’s. I couldnt even get out of bed. I must have caught a cold from being outside last night. And then last night came flooding back to me.
I smiled, remembering my mystery man. I hope he comes back tonight.
But not with me feeling like this! I probably looked even worse! I managed to sit up slowly. My head hurt so much. And I was unbelievably cold.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I made my way slowly to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
I didn’t look too bad, just really tired with bags under my eyes. But when I turned around, I noticed something strange on the side of my neck.
I leaned closer into the mirror and noticed two puncture wounds, like if I was bitten.
Its my own fault.
I should have known better than to bring home a guy I met in the Ray Conniff section.
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Wonderful – both in style and in substance. As someone born just a couple of years after the one here, your feel for the nuances of the time are spot-on.
The story moves well, never bogging down, and the ending is just perfect. Not a huge, crashing, stunning scream of an ending, but the simple straightforward discovery. Much more captivating that way. I’m going to read the sequel right away.
Interesting twist at the end. A 1950’s vampire story? It’s not something I’d read, but among the fans of such stories would probably be a refreshing spin. The story didn’t flow as well as it could, moving in fits and starts. The dialogue didn’t feel like a real conversation, as though the characters had to say what they said in order to advance the story. Let it flow more naturally.
I don’t remember either of the main characters introducing themselves, either for my benefit or theirs. I’ll call them “I” and “He.”
I have no idea what either of these people look like, what her place looks and smells like, etc. You’ve heard the difference between showing the reader and telling the reader? This post does more telling, even through the dialgue. ”He” is “this totally dreamy guy” but I have to take “I”s word for it since I haven’t seen him myself.
“Ahhh!” I said, totally not expecting that. Did people in the 1950’s talk like this? Some of the language is too “modern,” in dialogue and otherwise.
The injection of brand names and such to give the post a 1950’s flavor felt forced. Refrencing things from the era is one thing, but this was the equivalent of abrupt product placement in modern movies. Then again, “He” couldn’t give the name of the latest Frank Sinatra album, which was odd since it played so crucial a role in that dialogue. The post seemed to be written by someone who knows the 1950’s through modern Rockabilly or hipster clubs rather than through history knowledge or experience.
Repetitive use of words. Ray Coniff section, Hi-fi, stepped, etc. Mix them up, call them somethng else, or whatever you have to do to not make it seem like “I” and “He” are saying or doing the same thing over and over again.
You do a good job of showing how “He” seduces “I.” ”He” is pretty smooth, even for today.
This would probably be better written in the third person, which would allow the scene to be set to place the reader in the story.
Well that was okay, a very typical and common twist though and when using an idea thats already been written about tons of times before, you have to go above and beyond to keep reades interested. No one wants to read the same exact story all the time. That is the only thing I can complain about though. Your type of writing is enjoyable so just keep it up and do something to make your story different then every other one we’ve already read. Good job and good luck.
I love this! It’s well written, and the twist at the end was completely unexpected! I’d love to read an expansion on this, if you ever decide to write more.
Oh, no, not another vampire—you really got me, you sneak. They really are everywhere.
Pretty darn clever -- I don’t know if you’ve got enough of the ‘50s cliches in here though -- formica countertop, for example—oh, and this is a hip chick, she probably has Danish modern furniture, maybe even an Eames chair.
It will take more of a twist than a late ‘50s setting to get me interested in a vampire story, however. But for people who are into that, you’ve expanded the horizon.
Very good dialouge here. Nice work.
July 31, 2006
Deleted User
I liked how you used more dialogue to move the story through its progression and really helped bring the characters to life . Also the way it is written makes it easy on the reads and I quick and enjoyable read for the..well the reader of course.
: ) Thanks for the read.
Okay so we were traipsing through the romance section and somehow got lost and ended up in horror? This definitely is not my kind of piece, so consider that when you consider this. But since the story, in a way, hinges on whats-his-name, don’t you think it should be someone most people are familiar with? So what if his name is Coffin. You have a lot of talent and skill that is wasted on such a flimbsy premise as one of my father’s dimwitted puns.
I’m also not a big fan of female characters playing the bimbo. A total stranger and SHE suggests they go back to her place? Isn’t that female safety 101? As a man, I would never write a character that lacks such common sense. She would be uninteresting to me.
Finally, your vampire is too stereotype once the reveal is made. Your only missing the widows peak- which by the way, I pictured him with early in the story because of the slicked black hair- and the Slovakian accent.
I really dislike your characters. They seem incredibily shallow. Also, your woman seems either really young or really inexperienced. Also, maybe she is that way. It did sort of remind of “vanity fair” which maybe you were going for that. You did a pretty decent job.
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