Page 4 of Dad Bod: Vampire

“Come in,” I say.

In walks my friend, Atticus.

I should probably back up a bit to better explain the town where I live and the people who inhabit it. Case in point, I am a vampire. Yep, we’re real; we’ve just gotten better at hiding ourselves. And the advancement of using different colored lenses on glasses has even allowed us to go outside in the sun.

For the record, I’m the least cool vampire that ever lived. First of all, I got turned when I was in my early thirties, in 1987. That’s right, I look like an extra from the vampire classic, The Lost Boys. I’ve been able to update my wardrobe, but unfortunately, I’m stuck with the curly, mullet-like hair. I even have the diamond stud in my left ear.

You could argue that even with those dated elements, I’d still be the consummate sexy vampire. But I haven’t mentioned the fact that I’m a freaking giant. I’m talking six foot, five inches tall with a thick body to match. Whoever heard of a chubby vampire? But I digress…

The interesting thing about the town, Screaming Woods—as its known to its residents now instead of the charming Stream in the Woods--is that a couple of decades ago there was a freak accident involving a mad scientist, Halloween and an energy drink gone very wrong. It turned the residents into monsters.

Atticus is one of those monsters. He’s a zombie. Not like the ones in the movies. He’s not mindlessly wandering the streets looking for brains. In fact, he’s one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met.

So yeah, we’re just two undead dudes hanging out. Well as much as you could call either of us ‘dudes’. I’m not sure we’re collectively cool enough for that moniker.

“I got it finished,” he says, carrying his laptop towards me. “I just need to upload the software to your system and you’ll be all set.”

“Are you sure it works?”

He glances up at a me with his nearly fluorescent green eyes. “Yes. We tried it with Harry’s brother. And Jace even recorded a lecture with his face. Though he’s unsure if he’s going to use it. He’s gotten used to recording with just his hands.”

Jace is a satyr in town who also happens to be a music theory professor. Harry, or Harriet, is his wife.

A month or so ago, not long after I first hired her, I asked Atticus to create software that would enable me to video chat with my assistant without her realizing that I’m a damn vampire.

Unlike in the movies, my fangs don’t retract. They’re always there. They get more pronounced and tingly when I’m aroused. Aroused by food or sex.

Video chatting is not a requirement for a virtual assistant. With everyone else, I can communicate just fine via email or an online chat program. That worked with Rosie as well for the first few months of her employment.

But damn Rosie and her insatiable work ethic. She is determined to talk in person or over Zoom so that I can get my money’s worth.

Have I mentioned how terrified I am of her just showing up here?

To make matters worse, I made the mistake of googling her.

My curiosity got the better of me and I saw a picture. Now, I can’t get her out of my mind. All that pale, creamy skin, all those full curves, and all that blonde hair. Rosie is stunning.

But a mere picture isn’t enough for me. I can’t meet her in person. She likely isn’t one of the enlightened humans that is aware monsters walk among them. I can’t risk her quitting once she finds out what I am. And I don’t dare risk meeting her in person if she did. I don’t trust myself around her.

Still, I want more from her than just her words. I crave watching her move. See how her lips shape words—primarily my name—and how expressive her big brown eyes are. I’m desperate for any scrap of interaction with her, even if it must be through cameras and filters. And even if it makes me nervous as fuck.

“This girl, she is special?” Atticus asks.

Atticus’s tone implies he knows exactly how desperate I am. Which means my infatuation must be pretty obvious if even he sees it for what it is.

Still, I make a show of protesting. “Uh, no, she’s just my assistant. I figure some things will be easier to handle over a video chat.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You know, many of us believe humans to be the best mates for the rest of us.”

“I’m not looking for a mate. And even if I were, Rosie is my assistant. It would be inappropriate to cross the line with her.”

“That all depends on whether or not she’s interested in crossing said line,” Atticus says.

I stare at my friend, and he holds his hands up in defeat.

“Let’s just get you set up.”

He takes my laptop and pulls it over next to his. Then, he’s quiet for the next fifteen minutes or so while he clicks around on both computers.