Dinner with Bradford

"Is everything alright?"

The question, asked through a slight smirk, brought me back to reality with an embarrassed start.

"Of course! I'm fine, I was just really into your story." I replied. This was not the impression I wanted to make on a first date with the man I had been pinning over for months at the local coffee shop, but there was something about the hazel and chestnut colored swirl in his eyes that could put even the most focused of individual in a trance. They weren't the first thing about him I had noticed, it was hard to get passed the feeling he carried when entering or moving about a room. It was as if the weight of the world shifted with his every movement and everyone around him was compelled to give attention.

I'd like to say I hadn't been hoping each day that he would cross the threshold of the small coffee shop, accompanied by the slight jingle of the bells hastily attached to the doorframe, but I had. It became a sort of sick ritual of making the short walk from my townhouse to the coffee shop, setting up my books and computer, and ordering the same "chocolate" flavored frappucino while shooting glances towards the door waiting for him to arrive. And as if the universe was answering a rather pathetic request, he would.

I spent many afternoons sitting alone at my table in the back corner of the quaint coffee shop, decorated with fake plants and rustic wood decor that stood out against the pastel green of the walls. It reminded me of a mountain cottage with all the caffeine you could ever hope to drink. I would sit at my table, daydreaming of all the different ways to strike up a conversation with him, playing out the thousands of possibilities of how the interaction would go. Sometimes things went well, other times they did not. I had assumed I had gone through every possibility imaginable until the day all the preconceived plans were tossed into the proverbial trash can in my mind and HE came up to me.

"Dantes Inferno?" he said with a smile, reaching one hand out to lightly tap the cover with his middle finger. He had strong looking hands with smooth skin and what looked to be perfectly manicured nails. Another list of things to add to my mental list of tiny perfections about him. "Um...Yes. It's one of my favorites." I replied nervously, forcing myself to maintain eye contact while feeling my entire body willing me to jump up and dash into the bathroom to hide. It seemed all the sound had left the room. The barista taking an order, moving silently now, lips moving but no sounds. The whirr of the blender and coffee pots a slight drone. The radio that had been mid report telling the story of a hiker that had been attacked by an animal…gone like it had never begun. All I could hear and focus on was him.

He smirked again, "Someone has a unique taste in literature.” It was my turn to smile now, “Oh, definitely, I love the classics. If it was written before electricity was invented, chances are I have read it and enjoyed it. Have you read it?” Again the smirk, this time with a tinge of smugness around the edges, “Have I? The Divine Comedy in its entirety is a beautiful piece.”

So our first conversation carried on about classical literature. What felt like minutes quickly grew into an hour of chatting. After a few laughs about the relationship sorrows of Edgar Allen Poe and us finishing the last watered down bits of our drinks, he stood up slowly and reached across the table handing me a card. “This has been a wonderful conversation, but I’m afraid I am running behind for something important. Here is my information if you would like to talk more when we both have time.” I reach out taking the card and blushing, added “I would love that honestly. My names Alan, by the way!” My initial nerves crawling back up at the idea that he enjoy the time with me. “I will definitely give you a call!”

As he stepped away from the table he smiled that overwhelmingly handsome smile that could stop anyone dead in their tracks and gave a short wave “It has been my pleasure. You may call me Bradford. I look forward to seeing you again very soon, Alan.” And with the soft thud of a few footsteps on the old wooden floors and a jingle of the bells he was gone.

Now I sat across from him in a dark corner booth in a back section of one of the fanciest restaurants I had ever stepped foot in. I was dressed in casual grey slacks and a tucked in olive colored polo that I had decided last minute made my caramel colored skin stand out even more. Even so, I felt underdressed for the occasion and more specifically the restaurant. Looking over at him, his longer salt and pepper colored black hair shining in the light of the candle on the table and the dull glow of the overhead light. His alabaster skin looking even more ceramic against the dark burgundy color of the tablecloth and faux leather of the booth seats.

He gave a small chuckle, noticing my nerves and reached across the table and put his hand on mine. It was cold but not clammy, and he looked at me with those golden eyes that seemed to swirl in the dull light. “You’re nervous. I hope it’s not my fault. But you know you don’t have to be nervous with me. This is different than meeting at the coffee shop, or our few late night calls. But I wanted to treat you to something special and really get to enjoy our time together.” I smile measuredly, and replied as relaxed as I could, “I’m sorry, it’s not you at all. I’m just not used to places this nice. It’s a bit intimidating. But I am having a nice time. I promise.”

We shared another smile as the waitress approached, bringing the bottle of Merlot he had ordered previously and our appetizer of calamari. I was starving, having been too nervous to eat earlier in the day, but waited while he dolled out a few pieces for us both and poured our wine. A beautiful dark red, that he chuckled over as he poured almost double the amount into my glass. I gave a half laugh back saying, “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk, Bradford!” I took a few sips, and quickly realized it was the most delicious wine I had ever tasted. I shared my thoughts and he chuckled at me, filling my glass again.

Over the course of the evening, whether it was the delicious wine, or the even more intoxicating company, we got to know each other and laughed slowly sliding into a euphoric state of joy together. After insisting on paying the bill, and refusing to allow me to wait for an Uber to take me home, I followed Bradfords tall, slender but strong frame out under the street lights to the parking garage behind the restaurant. His black blazer fit over his shoulders and black undershirt perfectly, with a bronze striped tie and black vest over black dress pants the perfect length to match. I listened to the soft footfalls of his leather dress boots on the sidewalk as I strayed a step or two behind him.

It was a crisp, fall evening. One where the night air clung to the insides of your nose and chest. It felt damp out and fog clung in patches along the street. As he turned into the lower level of the parking garage, he looked back at me and caught me smiling mid wandering thought. “You spend a lot of time in your head don’t you Alan?”. I blushed hard this time, slightly embarrassed and responded dreamily, “I do…reality can be boring. But in my own head, the possibilities are endless. Anything is possible, at any time. And I can make it however I’d like it to be.” He reached out for my hand and I took it. “How “Alice Through The Looking Glass” of you.” He replied as we made our way up and around the ramp to the second level of the parking garage. The old yellowing lights giving off a sad look on the concrete structure, leaving Bradfords black Lincoln Towncar and one other smaller car further down looking like great metal beasts in a barren concrete field at dusk.

We came around the passenger side of his car, and he pulled me in close. He smelled so lovely. His perfect skin looking even more flawless this close. I could see my breath turning to mist and swirling around his tie. I looked up into his eyes. Those golden pools of ambrosia that seemed to pull me in deeper and deeper the longer I stared. I could get lost in them forever. I would do anything to be able to stare into them more. Anything he asked of me. I would gladly do it. As if reading my mind he said, “So you’re willing to be whatever I need?” My brain felt foggy. It could have been the wine. Maybe something I had ate? My knees felt a little weak. He slid the hand not holding mine up my other arm, onto my shoulder, and looked at me again. “You’ll be mine?” He asked, barely above a whisper. I smiled softly, and nodded. I wanted to be whatever he needed. So I would be. He leaned forward, putting his forehead to mine, our noses rubbing as I took in a breath and he slid his hand from my shoulder up my neck and caressed my jaw. Sliding his nose to the opposite side of my face as his hand, I leaned away from him, looking at the ceiling with my heart racing, smiling.

He kissed my neck. His lips felt cold even in the chilled air. A couple more soft kisses, and I turned my face to look at him as he lifted his from my neck - and gasped. The golden color of his eyes gone, only black pools of shining nothing were left in their place. Dark veins running out from the lower eyelids. And two large fangs where his top incisors had been. I tried to yell for help, but before I could he bit down on my neck. I could feel him draining my blood and my life away, and as I slide against the side of his car and to the floor of the parking garage, my own blood ruining the collar of my shirt, all I could do was compare me tasting that delicious Merlot to him tasting my blood. It was a ridiculous notion and comparison, but it drew a smile on my paling face regardless. After all, living in my head was what I was good at.