Chapter Twenty-Two: Hot Vampire Blues

The next day, Vera stopped by PWW to pick up some new scrubs for work. Monday would be her first day back on the job, and her old scrubs obviously wouldn't fit. She debated between the XS and S size for the pants, eventually settling on regular small – the XS inseam was about two inches too short for her lean frame and tight in the thighs, even if the seat did show off her butt, she wasn't sure why she was even worried about that. And, to her chagrin, she kind of was worried about looking good. Lisa had been teaching her about how to look good, including cosmetics. The cosmetics ecosystem was preposterously complex, but between Lisa's tutelage and a few hours of YouTube tutorials, she'd learned a few simple tricks to look professional.

"You pretty much have to wear make-up to look professional," Lisa said, and showed her how to get a good spread of gloss on her lips.

"That hardly seems fair." As a guy, shaving and combing your hair had been enough.

Lisa shrugged. "It isn't fair, but that's how it is."

With just a dusting of make-up, with extra emphasis on subtly rosy coloration, Vera did look passably presentable in her scrubs – pleasant, with her winsome features emphasized and without being overtly sexual. And she didn't look like a vampire, unless you really homed in on her eyes or the slightly elongated point of her canines. She looked perfectly presentable for her first day back at Imaging East. The small bottoms were a bit loose, and there was no way she could fit into anything smaller than a small top. Fortunately, the opaque, sturdy fabric of the scrubs meant she could wear whatever she wanted underneath them for support. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and tested the mobility of the scrubs, twisting her torso back and forth, bending over, and dropping down into a squat. Hector shamelessly looked on as she did so, and his PWW co-worker, Fred, made a little reflexive grunt like some kind of ape – it was equal parts flattering and gross.

Fred cleared his throat. "You, uh... I'm guessing you hit the gym?"

"Sure," Vera said. "I can squat a fucking Honda."

"I'll bet..."

"Yo, she ain't into dudes," Hector whispered.

After that, Fred still tried to slip her his number when he handed her the receipt, and Vera very visibly took his card, ripped it in half, and tossed it in the paper recycling. Vera was finding that, if she put any effort whatsoever into her appearance, she got about ten times more attention than she wanted. And if she didn't, she still got too much attention, and guys were very open about giving her beauty tips, which they were almost always wrong about. It was a lose-lose situation, and Vera wasn't quite sure which side of the ledger she wanted to find herself on. She supposed it felt nicer to be appreciated – her peculiar circumstances meant she could rebuff unwanted suitors without much trouble – so she supposed there would be more beauty video tutorials in her future.

After getting her scrubs taken care of, Vera broke out her parasol and made her way to Longstreet. Even to a non-vampire, Longstreet was reasonably safe during the day. There were an awful lot of people hanging out on stoops and looking on as she made her way around the neighborhood, but nobody tried anything. There were a few wolf-whistles – a first for her, and twice the police stopped her to ask what she was doing.

"Real-estate shopping," she told the second squad car.

And that was true – Vera was scoping out the many foreclosed properties along Longstreet Boulevard for something that she might snatch up and renovate into a decent safe house. She didn't have nearly enough money, not even for the run-down, boarded-over row houses, but that could easily change. She had income possibilities that Verne had never possessed. A $80,000 row house would give her plenty of square footage to work with, even if it would take a lot of renovation to turn decently livable.

"And what's the deal with the umbrella?" the officer gestured at her parasol.

"I'm very sensitive to the sun," Vera said.

"Uh-huh. So if I check your purse, I'm not going to find any drugs?"

It took Vera a moment to realize they thought she was either a prostitute or a drug-runner. And hers would have been a pretty poor costume for either, given that she was mostly covered-up and stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of Longstreet with her $500 outfit. She walked right up to the police car and handed her purse to the officer driving the car. He poked around for a minute before handing it back – and only afterward did Vera realize that her ID still said Verne Vera and that she would've had two phones in there if she hadn't just slipped her regular phone into the barely-adequate back pocket of her jeans. She could have very easily found herself with a lot of explaining to do, especially given that the police might still be looking for Verne.

"Word of advice, miss, I wouldn't walk around Longstreet. It can be a pretty sketchy neighborhood, and I'd hate to hear about another assault or worse."

"Thanks. I was just about to leave."

"Want a ride?" the second officer asked, a female officer with shades almost as dark as Vera's. Her name badge read Ofc. McComb.

"If you don't mind?"

Vera had never been in the back of a police cruiser, so she'd been curious enough to accept the ride. Her apartment in Weeks was only a twelve minute walk, but it was nice to be out of the sun after an hour of uncomfortable prickling whenever she let too much get exposed. The male officer gave Vera a lecture about situational awareness and his partner rolled her eyes the whole time, as if somebody like Vera wouldn't already be very situationally aware. They pulled up to her apartment building and the officer got out to help her exit.

"All right, here we are Miss Vera," the officer said. He handed her a business card. "If you ever have any trouble or see anything suspicious, give me a call. That's my patrol number, and if I'm not around, it'll go to dispatch."

"Thanks, Officer Charles."

He tipped his hat. "Call me Ben."

Then, as the police cruiser pulled away from the curb, Vera heard Officer McComb mumble to him, "Jesus, Ben, be subtle, man."

"I am subtle."

And then they were too far down the street for Vera to hear. She jogged up to her apartment and put her things away before opening up her real estate app and cross-referencing the listings against her notes from the places on Longstreet. She'd identified two possible locations for her new Fortress of Solitude when Lisa returned from wherever she'd been, her arms laden with a dozen bags of new wardrobe purchases. She hummed happily and pecked Vera on the cheek... and she smelled of fresh blood. She'd fed not an hour before.

"Good, you're home," Lisa said. "We're going out tonight, and I want to make sure our outfits coordinate."

Vera had about a dozen questions. Going out where, when, and with whom? And why? And how had she afforded another shopping bonanza? And what had she picked for Vera? And how had she known it would fit? This last question Vera could answer herself – the two of them were almost exactly the same size.

Lisa laid out their outfits on the couch, hemming and hawing over what would look good, what would be too slutty or too modest, and what would look good in dim versus bright lighting. Despite their mutual aversion to sunlight, she even opened the shades a crack to get some better illumination. Then out came the jewelry... and if that was real gold and silver, let alone real diamond and ruby, Vera had to be looking at enough value in jewelry to buy Salvador's Lexus several times over. Vera lifted a rose gold bracelet, a dozen tiny diamonds glittering along its length.

"I thought you'd like that one," Lisa said.

"How? How did you afford all this?"

"Carrie gave me a card," Lisa said, as if that explained anything. "I have no idea what the limit is – pretty high, I guess. And the jewelry is on loan." She didn't mention on loan from whom. She tapped the bracelet again and pecked Vera on the lips before she could object again. "But I bet we can keep a piece or two if you like it. We just have to ask."

"Um..." Vera said. "Who's Carrie?"

Carrie, it turned out, was one of the 'youngblood' vampires. Any vampire that had been turned for less than fifty years was considered young, though the other vampires stopped considering you a newbie after only fifteen or twenty years. The Youngbloods in the Palmetto Nocturnal Society were those half-dozen or so vampires who'd been turned in the past decade. Being younger and savvier to the modern world the Youngbloods were a different breed of vampire. They had a considerable social media presence, significant ties with the mortal world, and thought vampires like Erasmus Moody were weird and old-fashioned. And Carrie, it seemed, was their unofficial leader – she'd been turned ten years before and was already seen as an up-and-comer in the coven. Or so Lisa said.

Lisa compared perfume samples – she was taking this more seriously than the coven initiation the night before. "It's important for us to get to know these people – you know, to network and make social connections with the people we're going to know for years and years."

"Lisa, these people are our enemies," Vera said. "We're probably going to kill them eventually."

Lisa ice-blue eyes rolled way, way back, an expression that came across as absurdly petulant on her stunning face. "Only the bad ones. That can't be all of them."

Vera allowed that it might not be all of them... but it could be. It was possible the witches would end up killing every other vampire in the coven or die trying. In any case, Vera and Lisa were playing nice with the coven until the witches had a plan of action, playing eager fledgling vampires and gathering intel. As long as Erasmus didn't start asking Vera to do more contract kills or similarly horrible things, Vera was willing to watch and wait... but she hadn't planned on becoming pals with her fellow blood-suckers. Unfortunately, Lisa was determined to go through with this and she wouldn't be denied. Vera's suspicion was that her girlfriend had always secretly wanted to be a 'hot girl' and, now that she was, she was going all-out with it, from using her looks to get free stuff to the runway-ready clubwear she always wanted to wear. And wanted Vera to wear.

Strangely enough, Vera didn't mind modeling the clothes at all. As a guy, Verne had never had more than a passing curiosity with women's clothes. He'd had strong opinions about how girls, and particularly Lisa, looked in certain outfits. He'd especially liked her lucky green panties and the promise they represented. But he'd only ever tried on Lisa's panties once, just out of curiosity, and he hadn't gotten more than a hint of a thrill out of it. But now, something just clicked when Vera saw herself in elegant, attractive, enticing clothes... these were clothes designed for her body. Plus, it was a nice way to bond with Lisa... plus, it was a great excuse to have her ultra-hot girlfriend parading around in her underwear, too. Vera missed Lisa's lucky green panties, which wouldn't remotely fit either of them, but Lisa could rock a thong in a way that few people on the planet could. And as above so below: she and Lisa were boob twins, and it would be false modesty to deny that she and Lisa might be butt twins, too. She looked over her shoulder and back into the standing mirror and gave things a shake. She probably could squat a fucking Honda.

"To thong or not to thong," Lisa said. "No panty lines and they feel like liquid sex, but panties can give you better liftage and support."

"We don't need any liftage," Vera said. She smacked Lisa's butt, eliciting a shriek and a counter-smack. She made no effort to avoid it, instead leaning back into it and shrieking, as well. The two of them collapsed into giggles on the couch.

"This is nice," Lisa said, and she kissed Vera on the lips, adding a little nibble with her fangs. But, unlike Lisa, Vera hadn't fed lately and didn't feel anything erotic beyond the warm glow of Lisa's presence.

Vera kissed Lisa back and then lifted her off, placing her beside herself on the couch. "If your new vampire friends can get us the skinny on where to get some blood, I'll be all for a little mutual nippage. Until then, I'm not feeling much down below..."

"Our new vampire friends," Lisa sighed. "Don't deny who you are."

Vera shrugged. "Fine, I won't. No sex right now, but I'll model the shit out of whatever you want to see me in."

The modeling session wound up taking another two hours – in the first hour, Vera tried on just about everything in their expanding catalog of sexy eveningwear and sexier underwear. She was worried that the stiletto heels might give her trouble, but her vampire feet were made of sterner stuff than human appendages. Apropos of nothing, she could stand enpointe on one foot without the slightest discomfort (and, given that she probably had a vertical leap north of six feet, Vera wondered what vampire ballet might look like) and five-inch heels were no problem at all, though the ones she wound up going with were surprisingly comfortable platform heels four and a half inches high, three-ish without the platform made of burgundy snakeskin. She didn't want to know how much they cost.

Lisa wanted them to dress in color-coordinated and vampire-appropriate club attire on top of that. For Vera, this wound up being a black thong and a backless maroon wraparound dress – the front of the dress wrapped around and lifted up her boobs, no bra required. She also felt like she wasn't wearing enough underwear and had about four inches of cleavage on display. It felt pretty slutty...

"This feels pretty slutty," Vera said.

"It is pretty slutty," Lisa said. "But it's classy slutty, not trashy slutty, so it's fine." She unclasped the fabric wrapping around to Vera's lower back and tightened it slightly, providing a bit more pushup effect... frankly, probably too much effect. "But what I'm wearing is even slinkier, so I figured it would be fine. But if it's outside of your comfort zone..."

"Hmm." Vera turned back and forth in the mirror. "It does look pretty good. Maybe I'll feel more covered with some jewelry on?"

Jewelry, piercings in particular, were a bit of a tricky issue. Lisa had sported a few ear piercings before she'd turned, but her transformation had healed them over. Now, neither of them had anything in the way of piercings for earrings or anything else. But, Vera reasoned, the two of them healed fast enough that they could lance just about anywhere on their bodies with a needle, pop a piercing in, and they'd heal over the jewel within a few minutes. And, while that worked like a charm for ear piercings and, theoretically, tongues, eyebrows, and a few naughtier spots that neither of them were ready for, Lisa had a perfect jewel for a navel piercing. The problem there was that she was so slim that there was hardly any skin to work with, and it took Vera a few tries sticking a safety pin through the tiny pinch of loose skin to get it right.

"Ow! Jesus. You have no idea what you're doing," Lisa muttered. She squirmed away and frowned at her belly.

"You're right. I don’t."

"Hmm..." Lisa inserted the belly jewelry into the little hole and jangled the little dangling gem. "It looks fine. We'll keep it this way for now."

That was all well and good, but they'd need to go through the same ritual every time they wanted to put in jewelry - every time. As vampires, they could survive a casual impalement with no problem, but the logical consequence was that they'd heal over any holes they wanted to be there, too. Vera suspected that they'd be investing in clip-on jewelry before too long. But they had plenty of jewelry that didn't need to be stuck through their skin, and Vera really had her eye on the rose gold bracelet. Lisa agreed to let her wear it on the condition that she got to choose Vera's other adornments, since Vera had no idea how to coordinate them - which was a valid critique.

It was a good thing they got started early, because Lisa wasn't satisfied until very close to their departure time. It struck Vera as a bit odd, going all-out to look their best, going out to be seen, when she and Lisa were an item and they were members of a secret society of vampires. Who did they expect to be seen by? But she wasn't going to question it too much – there was an electric delight in treating her attire as a project, treating her body a work of art to be displayed. Even in her unsated state, there was something special about it. And, Vera realized, despite everything she wouldn't want to go back to being her old self, even without NVC. She was lost in thought thinking about that personal revelation when Lisa got the text from Carrie.

Lisa floofed the golden cascade of her hair. "Our ride's coming in two minutes! Shit! How do I look?"

"Really?" Vera rolled her eyes. "You know you're beautiful. I'm not your little validation fairy."

Lisa kissed her forehead. "It's cute that you think that. Let's go, sweet cheeks."

Carrie pulled up in an Escalade limo, all black and chrome. Vera suddenly felt very self-aware, walking out of her shabby, low-rise Weeks apartment in a very-revealing outfit that, all things told, probably cost more than she'd ever made in a year. She could feel their eyes on her. True, she was second fiddle to Lisa, but she was a very-competent second fiddle. Vera wasn't sure how to feel – embarrassed? Proud? Elated? Half-naked? Somehow, she managed to feel all four things, plus the very beginnings of the nip of blood hunger. She'd had maybe half a pint the night before. The driver opened the door for them, his demeanor admirably professional. Vera hardly noticed him stealing glances at Lisa's cleavage and/or midriff... and craning to look at Vera's ass when he shuffled around to close the door.

Before Vera could settle in and get her bearings, someone spoke to them, her voice velvety and sweet. "Lisa... Vera... welcome to the Youngbloods."

OvidLemma

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