Suckers - J.A. Konrath

let the ladies take what they wanted.
There was a bad moment, when I felt someone with a mustache kissing me, but it turned out
not to be a mustache.
Yes, there was sucking. And groping. And fondling. And pulling. And thrusting. And lots of
other ing words. And by the time it was finally over, I had to admit that it was indeed the greatest
thirty seconds of my life.
"That’s enough, baby." I forced back an overzealous Harry fan. "No use trying to prime a
dry pump."
I disentangled my legs, pulled my fingers out from wherever they’d been, and shoved away
some tattooed vixen writhing on the floor, because she was writhing on my pants.
"Any of you ladies know where the back door is?"
I slapped away an intrusive hand.
"Not that one. The exit."
"Aren’t you enjoying yourself, Mr. McGlade?"
It was Vlad. He’d taken off the Hefty Bag ensemble, and stood naked in the doorway. The
last time I’d seen anything that small, it was stuck in a hors d'oeuvre.
"I’m having a blast, Vladdy old boy. But all good things must end, and frankly, you’re all a
bunch of psycho freaks. So I’m afraid that—Jesus!"
The vixen nearest to me had sunk her bridgework into my ankle, and it hurt
like...well...getting bitten on the ankle.
I pulled back, then felt a similar pain on my left hand. And then on my right arm. I kicked
away my attackers and limped over to an empty corner of the room to finish pulling up my pants.
"Blood is the elixir of life, Mr. McGlade."
Vlad bared his own fangs, and I noticed Little Vlad waking up to see what all the excitement
was about. Even turgid, it was more appropriate for picking locks than satisfying the ladies.
"You’ve got a real tiny rodney there, Vlad. No wonder you’re a power-mad sadist. The
shrinkological term is 'overcompensation'."
Vlad squeaked his squeaky squeak-laugh.
"You’re to be the ultimate sacrifice, Mr. McGlade. We’re going to eat you alive, then deliver
your corpse to the president of the network."
"I’ve met him. He’d prefer tranny hookers."
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