Club Vamp: Turned By His Seed
Leslie Clayton
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Leslie Clayton
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I stood at the sink in the crowded bathroom, the music outside pounding in my head. It was a Friday night and the club was packed full of young men and women. Everyone was on the dance floor, having the time of their lives, and I was inside the bathroom trying to keep myself together. I stared at my face, my black hair gelled into a spiky 'do, my olive skin pallid and covered in sweat, my dark brown eyes darting madly around me.
What am I doing here? I wondered.
My thoughts drifted back to the argument I'd had with my mother that afternoon. The argument that had sent me fleeing from my comfortable childhood home into the open arms of the highest-profile gay club in the city.
Our house was nestled in the countryside, far enough away from the city and its influences to stay prestigious and impressive. I call it a house, but it was both a mansion and my plush prison.
I believe my parents always meant well by me. I went to the best schools and had the finest luxuries. I was looked-after, but not spoiled. My material needs were always met, but it was my intangible desires that ate away at me.
Earlier that day, the topic was my future. As the oldest son of a wealthy CEO, a lot of expectation had landed square on my shoulders. My mother had begun the conversation innocently enough, a thin coating to her true motives.
“So, Jeremy,” she started, sipping at her coffee. “How did you enjoy your first year at university?”
“Oh, it was great. I made some good connections with one of the board members, I think. One of my frat brothers has an uncle big in pharmaceuticals, there might be an internship there for next summer.”
“Very nice, dear. And what about your classmates? Anyone catch your eye?”
I stared out the window, watching a robin peck at the ground in the warm sunshine. I could sense the direction we were going, no possible answer I could give was going to save me.
“Ah, not really. A lot of nice girls at parties, but nothing to get excited about.”
“I see.” She pursed her lips and brought her cup down to her lap. “I've given it some thought and I plan on introducing you to the Merricks' daughter.”
A lump formed in my throat. I wasn't ignorant to the unpleasant fact that when my cousins were introduced to someone new, a three-to-six month engagement and lavish wedding followed. The Merricks were powerful players in a sister company to my father's, I was doomed.
“Oh, what's her name, Daisy?” I asked, trying to keep from screaming my head off.
“Chrys,” my mother supplied.
“Right, Chrysanthemum. How could I forget?”
“She'll be arriving home in a few days and I thought it would be lovely to have everyone over for dinner that evening.”
“Mother, I know you mean well, but she isn't my type, exactly.”
“She is a well-mannered and charming young woman. She has a bright future and comes from a respectable family. What, pray tell, is wrong with her?”
“She's just—I'm only 19 mother, should we be planning for my marriage so soon?”
“Oh, please, dear, you're being dramatic. It's a social dinner, not a proposal.”