In Da Club

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Monday, January 19, 2015

“We have a new member joining us this evening,” Dr. Ludwig says to the room as everyone sits in their seats. Eric for one is happy to have someone else in the group; it will take attention away from him. For the last two weeks, Dr. Ludwig has focused nearly all the group’s attention on him. If he didn’t know any better, he would think the old crone enjoyed his torment. It’s alright; he will enjoy having the focus on someone else tonight. And what makes it even better is that he knows exactly what landed this particular person in group; he’d had a front row seat for it.

“Introduce yourself to the other members so that they know who you are,” Dr. Ludwig prods the newest addition to the group. When he remains sullen and stares at her with hostility, she merely raises an eyebrow. The silent stare off continues until the newcomer jumps in his seat like he has been prodded with a hot iron poker. Dr. Ludwig smiles viciously as the newcomer looks in horror at his side. There is a small, smoldering hole in his clothing that wasn’t there a moment ago. Eric says nothing and keeps his face impassive, but he does make note for future sessions so that he does not antagonize the little troll. He likes his body parts exactly where they are and does not intend to lose any over a stupid therapy group.

“Now tell the members of the group who you are,” Dr. Ludwig demands when the small fire is out.

“Do you have any idea how expensive these items were? You owe me money for these,” the newcomer demands.

“Keep it up and you’ll lose something that cannot be replaced,” Dr. Ludwig threatens the man in a controlled voice though there is an edge of hostility to her words that none of the others miss. Jason Stackhouse mutters “shit” under his breath and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Fine,” the newcomer says with a definite lack of grace. “My name is Claude Crane,” he says dramatically. He looks around the room expectantly, as if the other members in the group are supposed to bow down before his presence. When he doesn’t get the reaction he is expecting, he crosses his arms over his chest and huffs in disgust.

“What did you do to land yourself in this therapy group?” Dr. Ludwig snarls her question when Claude refused to talk anymore. Eric wonders if whatever the doctor’s kind suffers from is a similar condition as human females and PMS. The good doctor definitely has a short fuse, is prone to emotional outbursts, and is more than willing to inflict physical violence. Perhaps she needs some chocolate or ice cream, Eric thinks to himself with a smirk.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a sex addict,” he says sarcastically. His blue eyes move around the room, the color dull as his eyes move over the other members of the group. He looks at the women with ill-concealed scorn, judging them for whatever qualities he finds lacking. Claude’s blue eyes light up and sparkle with fire as he looks at Eric and Jason sitting next to each other. He sits up in his chair, preening like a peacock, licking his lips with hunger. “Oh, well helllllllllo gorgeous. How you two doin’? Maybe we can get together after the meeting. I’m free if you are – AHHHHH MOTHER FUCKER THAT HURT!!!!!!” Claude glares at Dr. Ludwig as he once again grips his side.

“REASON. NOW. FAIRY.” Dr. Ludwig’s face twists in a vicious snarl and her eyes take on the yellow glow that usually signifies that a two-natured is about to shift to their animal form. Eric and the other members of the group are taken aback. Dr. Ludwig is a twoey?!?!?!?!

Claude straightens up in his chair, adjusting the brim of his cap so that it sits at a rakish angle on his head. “Well, since you’ve asked so nicely,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “My sister Claudine insisted I come here after I caused a ‘minor’ disturbance at our club last week.”

Eric smirks thinking Claude Crane’s ‘minor’ disturbance resulted in a fire that nearly burned down the shared business establishment of the Crane triplets, costing them thousands of dollars in lost revenue and thousands more in renovations to get the club open again. All over petty jealousy and a lover’s quarrel gone horribly wrong. As Claude recounts his tale, Eric zones out, thinking of his own experience on that infamous night at Hooligans.

Flashback

Eric thought that the patrons of Fangtasia were among the most wretched that humanity had to offer. The pathetic, delusional, and often suicidal humans that frequented his club are among the dregs of society. He only cares for them in as much as they affect the rhythm of his existence. If they are truly dead, they can no longer spend money in his establishment, making an already rich vampire richer. And if they are dead, it probably means more paperwork for him because he will have to clean up the mess that another vampire left him. Eric despises paperwork as much as Pam despises Wal-Mart. She thinks the superstore is the downfall of the American culture. She has been begging Eric to move back to Europe when his contract as Sheriff of Area Five is up. At least Europe still has its refinement and sophistication, his snotty progeny argues, as long as one overlooks the barbarians of the North.

However, the patrons of the establishment he finds himself in tonight may be worse than anything that has walked in Fangtasia. Eric didn’t think such a thing was possible, but looking at the overweight soccer moms and depressed ugly single women looking for a shred of affection makes him rethink his stance. The clientele of Hooligans leaves much to be desired in his opinion. They only advantage that he can find among the humans here is that they do not smell like a plastics factory because they insist on wrapping themselves in latex. However that does not mean they smell better than the rabble at Fangtasia; only different.

Eric takes a deep, unnecessary breath before opening the door of the adult entertainment establishment. The smells of the night swirl in his nose and coat the walls of his mouth and throat. Taste and smell are two closely related senses, so it is only fitting that drawing in the aromas of the night also gives him a taste of the world around him. His nose quickly sorts through all the chemicals comprising the heavy perfumes and colognes worn by those that have made their way inside. He can taste the humidity in the air; the heavy dampness hanging in the atmosphere makes it seem as if he is underwater. There is also the rotting stench of the contents of the dumpster from behind the building; it reminds him of the smell of rotting fish left out in the sun to back to a crisp and he can almost taste the slimy saltiness of the fish he used to eat as a mortal. There are also the scents associated with motor vehicles, the smell of which always reminds him of England during the Industrial Revolution, and how a large black cloud had always hung over London. Thinking back on it, Eric can now realize that cloud of smoke was really a harbinger for how much worse off the planet would be in the years to come. Technology may have made life easier, but the cost has been extremely high and the world is only now beginning to see the foolishness of its greedy ways.

All of these scents and tastes Eric inhales greedily and holds inside him, hoping that these repulsive flavors will be enough to keep him in check. He wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the fact that one of the vampires in his area had attacked one of the Fae, and not just any Fae, but one of the Crane triplets, grandchildren of the ruler of the Fae realm. The vampire in question, Taryn, is confined in a silver coffin in Fangtasia’s basement. Apparently Taryn has a history with the Crane family, extending back to her days as a mortal in Ireland. Taryn looks exactly like a stereotypical Irishman: dark red hair, pale white skin (even before she was made vampire), striking blue eyes, and a temper that would make Chef Gordon Ramsey- Hell’s Kitchen fame; Pam adores the way he insults everyone, – look like as jolly as Santa Claus. There had been a boy she was set to marry, that is until he got a look at Claudette, and then he was utterly bewitched by the fairy and forgot all about Taryn. Of course, the Fae are fickle creatures, and once Claudette had stolen the boys affections, she’d tired of him. He tried to go back to Taryn but she wanted nothing further to do with him. However, Taryn never forgot her grudge against the voluptuous sex goddess. Many times over the years, Taryn has battled with Claudette, but she had never come out ahead because she always let her emotions get the best of her. Except for this last encounter where Taryn had a human poison Claudette with iron. While weakened from the iron, Taryn had been ready to kill Claudette, and she would have succeeded if not for the arrival of Claudette’s siblings, Claude and Claudine. The two fairies had teleported their ill triplet away and immediately filed a grievance with the Sheriff of Area Five.

Tonight is when Eric is set to deal with two of the three Crane siblings in response to their grievance. He had delayed dealing with them until he knew if Claudette would live or pass onto the Summerlands. Dr. Ludwig had been the one to inform him after the last therapy meeting that Claudette will be making a full recovery, but that she must stay in the Fae realm while healing. Eric inhales deeply again of the distasteful scents around him before closing off his sense of smell. He opens the door to Hooligans while praying to his gods to give him the strength to survive this meeting without draining someone.

Inside the adult entertainment establishment reminds him of a circus tent. There are trapeze swings suspended in the air with performers twisting and spinning in outfits befitting a burlesque show. The walls are red or purple, the colors of royalty. The stage floor is black and white tile which leads to thick, heavy, red velvet curtains with gold tassels. On the stage are dancers in various stages of undress while other club employees work the audience. As Eric assesses the scene before him, he thinks it looks more like a den of sexual activity than a strip club. He thought Hooligans was a male strip club, but he sees men and women performing as well as both sexes in the audience. He knew fairies were reported to be just as sexual as vampires, perhaps even more so; pity that he cannot engage in an orgy with the performers here. It would be a sight to behold, one that would have satisfied even Dionysus’ unquenchable thirst for pleasure.

Eric did not get to move more than a few steps inside the door before he is halted by a large brute of a beast dressed in ill-fitting black pants with red suspenders; no shirt. He is taller than Eric by at least half a foot and must have weighed nearly three hundred pounds of solid muscle. This creature isn’t human; he looks like a cross between a Were and a Dae. His skin isn’t white or tan even; it looks red, as if he is completely sunburned and his eyes have the yellow glow of the two-natured. Normally the two-natured are hairy creatures, but this one looks hairless; even his head is bald.

I guess love really is blind, Eric thinks as he tries to keep his revulsion to himself. What impossible situation could have resulted in a Dae and a Were procreating? Eric suppresses a shudder as he fights to keep himself from thinking about it too hard.

“Sheriff Northman wait,” the creature grunts. Wonderful, I’m dealing with Sloth, Eric thinks in frustration. However, he is not kept waiting long. A beautiful woman wearing a form-fitting orange spandex dress comes to greet him. She is the epitome of what a fairy should look like: tall, slender, otherworldly, beautiful, and most importantly, pointy ears.

“Good evening Sheriff. I’m Claudine Crane,” she says with a polite nod of her head. “I apologize for Paddy’s abruptness. He is most singular when it comes to fulfilling his instructions,” she says with a small smile. To Eric, that means he’s got the brain function of a goat.

“I thought it prudent for all of us if we conducted our business in the main part of our establishment. The mixture of scents, combined with the air conditioning, should be less troublesome for you in there. Please follow me,” she says leading the way to main floor of the club. She weaves her way through the tables and chairs easily, her hips swaying in time to the music pulsing through the speakers. Eric is distracted by her curves; reminding him it has been far too long since he has had any kind of sexual relief.

Claudine gestures to a vacant table in the back of the room that is somewhat private. Before Claudine sits down, a waitress comes over to take their order. “Would you like something to drink Sheriff? We have Royalty on hand if you like.”

Eric nods his head and the waitress leaves quickly once Claudine places their order. He slides in his side of the booth and looks at Claudine warily. “I’m surprised you carry Royalty Blend, or did you only purchase this on my account?”

Claudine smiles faintly. “To be honest, there are a few of your kind that frequent our establishment. Of course, every possibly safety precaution is taken when they attend, which they readily agree to. I think they liken it to a contact buzz.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eric says uncomfortably. It is not that a vampire needs to breathe, but being without his sense of smell is unsettling. It is one of his primary weapons.

Claudine smiles more fully. “I can assure you Sheriff that you are not in any danger. We have ways of dampening our scent. Also, there are wards in place to prevent any harm from coming to anyone here. Please take a whiff.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait until our business is concluded,” Eric says shortly. The last thing he needs is letting his judgment be clouded because he is on a fairy high.  Claudine nods and waits for the waitress to return with their drinks before she begins discussing the matter at hand.

“Very well Sheriff,” Claudine says assuming a business-like tone. “The vampire known as Taryn committed a blood offense against the House of Brigant. We are seeking financial restitution as well as her True Death. This is not the first time she has attacked a member of the royal family nor do we think it will be the last. Taryn has an irrational hatred for my sister, though we admit Claudette is not blameless in all of this,” Claudine admits ruefully.

Eric internalizes his sigh. He knew this was to be expected given that Claudette is a member of the royal family. However, that does not mean he wants to lose a vampire in his area. If he does not fight for Taryn, he will incur the wrath of both Sophie-Anne and Taryn’s maker. However, if he does not agree to the fairy’s demands, it could potentially lead to the next Fae-vampire war, something the world has not experienced since the Thirty Years’ War. Humans believe the war waged so long because of religious differences between Catholics and Protestants, but really that was a cover story created to hide the utter destruction of much of central Europe. The Peace of Westphalia ended the human war, but the supernatural war continued to rage until a treaty was reached between the vampire monarchs of Europe with the Prince of the Fae, Niall Brigant. The declining population of the Fae necessitated the treaty, and many of the Fae returned to their realm. Those that remained went in hiding. Eric had participated in the battle, enjoying his fair share of destruction and mayhem. In fact, he nearly met his True Death during that war because he was high on Fae blood. He knows not why the Prince of the Fae spared his life, but he is in debt. Eric hates being indebted to anyone.

“I understand your family’s position, but I cannot condemn Taryn to her True Death without first notifying her maker as well as my Queen,” Eric states cautiously. “In the meantime, I can assure you she is confined in silver and will remain so until we can reach a decision. As for financial restitution, do you have a number in mind?”

Claudine’s eyes narrow slightly, but she shows no other sign of displeasure. “Five million dollars.”

Eric nods. “If Taryn does not have such an amount, I will cover the cost from my personal finances,” he reassures Claudine. “Please let the Prince know that I will contact the Queen. The search for Taryn’s maker may take longer, but I hope to have this issue resolved within a fortnight. Is that acceptable?”

“You know, Grandfather spoke highly of you. He said you are pragmatic and quite reasonable. He neglected to tell me how attractive you are,” she says with a wry grin. “Very well Sheriff, I will await your decision. However I expect the financial restitution to be completed within the week.”

Eric nods his head and Claudine rises from the table. “Please feel free to stay and enjoy the show. I swear to you that no harm will come to you here as long as you do not provoke us. I think you will enjoy the show,” she says with a genuine smile. “There is a little something here for everyone.” With that Claudine walks away, blending in among the members of the growing crowd.

Eric sips his Royalty Blend, his eyes taking in his surroundings. Carefully and slowly, he breathes in his surroundings, sampling the air for the first time. He sighs with deep satisfaction as he realizes the fairy was telling the truth. Eric didn’t expect Claudine to lie, but the Fae are known for their less than honest dealings with all creatures, including each other. They tend to withhold information, only revealing partial truths to suit their own needs. However, she was right in that the Fae scent is not overpowering to the point of inciting madness. It is a rich, sweetness that enhances the sensual atmosphere of the club. Oh if only he could participate in the pleasures of the flesh . . . He will have to remember to come back here when he is finished with Sophie-Anne’s ridiculous punishment, preferably with a bevy of beautiful women to satisfy his every desire. It’s been a while since he has participated in an orgy; perhaps he will call a few friends to spend the evening with him. Eric’s fangs slide partially down as he thinks about all the fun he could have with Salome, Nora, Anna, Isabel, just to name a few. He adjusts in his seat as his wayward thoughts have aroused a part of his body that needs to stay dormant for the next ten weeks.

He signals his waitress to bring him another drink and he allows himself to relax in the confines of his booth. The smell does act like a narcotic, making him far mellower than he has been in years, probably since the eighties when he had an interesting experience with a meal and shrooms. With a sense of relaxed detachment, Eric watches as all the tables fill in with eager patrons. Performers still mingle among the crowd, taking dollar after precious dollar from the screaming hordes clustered around the tables. However there is no one performing on the stage. Listening to the patrons around the tables, they are all atwitter for the star attraction of the show to take the stage. From what Eric can hear, Claudine’s brother Claude is the star attraction.

“Hurry up bitches. Wes already missed the other acts. I ain’t missin’ out on that hunka hunka burnin’ love ‘cause of you nasty ass hos!” An angry black man snaps at his companions as he hurries to the reserved table in front of Eric’s booth. Eric stares at the man with some fascination because it is highly unusual to see an openly flamboyant black gay man outside of New Orleans. However, his flamboyant nature does not mean that he is weak; in fact, the cut of the man’s purple pinstripe suit hints at a hardened body underneath that is more than capable of taking care of business if push comes to shove.

The man holds Eric’s attention for longer than most because he cannot help but think of how much Pam would appreciate how perfectly coordinated his outfit and accessories are, down to the purple eye shadow and glitter on his fake eyelashes. Only at Hooligans could Eric see an outfit like that fitting in. Unlike most strip clubs, there is a strict dress code: business dress only. Men are to wear sport coats and dress pants; women are expected to wear dresses though skirts are allowed. No denim whatsoever is allowed. You would have thought that rule alone would have prevented clients from attending the establishment but it has not. Even for Eric’s meeting that night he wore one of his favorite black suits with a black button down shirt open at the collar. No tie – Eric hates those ridiculous things and only wears them when necessary. A tie is merely a weapon that can be used against you in a fight; though he does appreciate a tie’s usefulness when it comes to a restraint of some kind. Part of Eric still longs for the days when his clothes consisted of animal hides and the clothes the women of his household made him. Animal hides are far more liberating than people realize. It is primitive yet natural and didn’t smell of chemicals like most clothing nowadays.

Eric shakes his head a little as if trying to clear the fog from his brain. The calming scent is making his normally focused analytical brain go off in a million different tangents. The bitchy man in front of him grabs Eric’s attention again by gesturing wildly for the other members of his party to “hurry the fuck up”. Perhaps he should get the man’s name so that Pam will have a new playmate. She often bemoans that no one in this swampy wasteland understands the first thing about fashion, and Eric is sick of her trying to make him a fashionista. He could care less about which designer is hot, which is not; and what the fuck is the difference between crops, capris, gauchos, and Bermuda shorts? They’re all fucking short! The fact that he even knows those terms infuriates him beyond belief.

Two others join the black man who has now sat down facing the stage and fidgets nervously in his chair. Sitting beside the outspoken man is another man, far less flamboyant than his companion but the affection between the two is obvious in the casual touches the two of them exchange. He is Latino with dark curly hair, goatee, and brown eyes that seem to be full of life. He is the type of person that will always try to find the good in people, no matter what, yet there is a darkness to him that he tries hard to suppress. Both of these men have an otherness to them that marks them as belonging to the supernatural community. However, the woman with them, even though it is easy to see she is related to the black man, is not part of the Supe world.

“Bitch if you hadn’t changed your outfit four times, we’d a’ been here an hour ago,” the dark-skinned woman in a blue cocktail dress complains. She signals a waitress to bring them four margaritas. Once the waitress is gone, she turns her attention back to the two men at the table. “I don’t see what the big deal is about watching a man shake his ass in little to no clothing. If I wanted to watch that shit, I could watch your home movies,” she snaps.

“Hookah, you couldn’t handle all a’ this,” he says gesturing to himself grandly. “No’ hush yo mouf and wait to be amazed. Yous know I don’t get in a tizzy about just anyone, so you knows this sumbitch be special.”

She snorts as she flings her braids over her shoulder. “You used to get this worked up about Danny Pierceson back in high school. How’d that work out for you?” She folds her arms over her chest and looks at him expectantly.

“Better than you know bitch, but a lady never kisses and tells,” he says with a playful hushing motion which causes everyone at the table to laugh.

As entertaining as it is to watch these three, they are interfering with Eric’s mellow state. Perhaps it is time for him to leave after all. Eric slides out of the booth, for once, not mindful of his surroundings.

“Ooomppppfffff!” A tiny voice says against his chest as a blonde woman collides with him. Out of reflex, Eric grabs the woman to steady her, his hands landing on the rounded curve of her hips. At the same time, he inhales deeply, trying to stay calm. Instead of the euphoric scent that seems to be the perfume of the club, he inhales pure honeyed sunlight. His fangs snap down and his body responds in other ways. Never before has he smelled something so enchanting, though it tickles a memory he cannot quite place.

“Oh excuse me sir, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” she mutters apologetically in a sweet Southern drawl as she pulls back from his chest, though Eric still keeps her in his grasp. If anything, his hold tightens marginally as he tries to pull her closer. She looks up at him with a smile, which fades to a look of amazement as she takes notice of his fangs. “Oh my goodness! You’re a vampire,” she says excitedly.

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you never seen a vampire before?”

“Not in person,” she admits with the return of her smile. “I can’t see any vampires finding Bon Temps interesting.”

“Oh I think it’s just become my favorite place to be,” he purrs heavy with innuendo which causes her to blush. Eric nearly groans as the heating of her skin makes her scent stronger.

“You stop that now,” she says with a giggle. “You’d get bored real quick. The only two places open late at night are Merlotte’s and the Grab-It-Qwik. I can’t see you bein’ the beer and burger type, and nobody in their right mind wants to go to the Grab-It-Qwik to deal with Maudette. What would you do for fun?”

His grin turns decidedly wicked and his fangs seem to elongate. His hands pull her closer so she can feel the part of his anatomy that knows exactly what kind of fun he’d like to have with her. Another scent joins the air, one that threatens to break Eric’s resolve to fulfill his ridiculous punishment: the blonde temptress’ arousal. It is sweet and tart at the same time and he longs to drop to his knees to lap it up. But before he can react, Claudine comes hustling over to them, breaking the spell they had been under.

“There you are my dear! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Claudine says loudly in the woman’s ear which gets her to turn around and step out of Eric’s grasp. The blonde engages in conversation with the fairy and the two women move away from him. Eric watches with narrowed eyes as the fairy leads the woman towards the far end of the club. They continue talking animatedly though the blonde’s eyes drift to him several times. The fairy clearly does not look happy when the blonde moves away from her, and Claudine’s eyes narrow at him in warning. The blonde sits down at the table closest to him, her friends admonishing her for having disappeared for so long. Eric sits back down at his table; all thoughts of leaving are gone. The only thing he wants is sitting not twenty feet away from him. She must feel his eyes on her because she shivers for no reason several times and she turns her head to glance at him over her shoulder again while biting her lip. The tension between them is thick. Eric is so focused on it that for the second time that night he fails to take in his surroundings, so he is caught off guard when the star attraction, Claude Crane, begins his performance. It is only the shrieking of the women (and some men) in the crowd that forces Eric’s gaze away from the woman who has bewitched him.

A single white spotlight shines down from the ceiling to illuminate Claude Crane sitting on the stage behind a desk in a black suit with a white button down shirt and a red tie. His head is bowed towards the desk as if he is completely oblivious to the crowd screaming for him. However Eric sees a smirk spread across the handsome Fae’s face. When he raises his head to the crowd, the smirk is in full effect across his face. He rises from the desk, as graceful as the finest of ballet dancers. He walks towards the catwalk, adjusting the knot of his tie, letting the full force of his sexuality wash over the crowd. Eric will give the fairy credit, he can certainly dance and he can sell sex with the best of them. And given the rise of erotica based around businessmen with dark secrets, this is the perfect scenario to enrapture the crowd. The performance certainly appeals to the masses, much to Eric’s chagrin. He wanted to see the blonde stare at him like that, all starry-eyed and panting with lust. He was tempted to climb up on her table and strip just to see what kind of reaction he could get.

And he might have . . . if Claude and his lover hadn’t started a fight that nearly burned down Hooligans.

End Flashback

In the resulting mêlée, Eric had lost sight of the blonde. But it didn’t matter. He has a plan . . . one that he will begin enacting after tonight’s ridiculous torture – therapy – session. He smirks to himself as he thinks of the license of one Sookie Stackhouse sitting in his jacket pocket. What can he say? He’s perfected his pickpocketing techniques over the years, and they have proved handy on more than one occasion. When it looked like the blonde was going to escape his clutches at the club, he’d conveniently lifted her license out of her purse to make sure he could find her again.

Sneaky; yes. But effective.

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11 Responses to In Da Club

  1. VictoryInTrouble says:

    Ha ha! He’s a pickpocket. Lol. Ludwig is awesome!! This story is so fun!

  2. kleannhouse says:

    loved his sneakiness and soon i am sure he will figure out that she and Jason are related, loved it KY

  3. suzyq591suzy says:

    Very good and of course Eric is a sneak and then wanting Laffy for Pam so they can discuss fashion genius 😉

  4. mom2goalies says:

    This story is just do much fun! Sneaky Eric stealing her license, lol
    OMG the thought of Pam and Lala discussing fashion is mind boggling, in such a good way.
    Will be interesting when he realized it is Sookie picking Jason up from the meetings.

  5. lostinspace33 says:

    Hmmm…I’m surprised he hasn’t figured out yet that Sookie and Jason are related.

  6. askarsgirl says:

    I am so loving this! The therapy circle kills me everytime. I can just imagine all those supes sittin there sharing their feelings😃lol

  7. Kittyinaz says:

    Lol!!! Love it!! Just freaking love it to death!

  8. ashmo2000 says:

    Hm, I wonder what Sookie’s reaction would be when Eric just shows up? Or when she finds out he’s in Jason’s class?Taryn went kind of far with the iron poisoning, it could have killed Claudette, death penalty is right. I don’t know, Claudette is just as guilty as Taryn and they both should be punished as they both kept this up for years. Let’s see what’s gonna happen!

  9. redjane12 says:

    Eric’s very naughty stealing an ID like that… tsk tsk tsk… The therapy group is hilarious… Very fun story…

  10. duckbutt60 says:

    Hah! Sneaky vampire! I tell you, that therapy group will be a total bust –those guys will do just what supe guys will do —have fun!
    Great update!

  11. anem72 says:

    I’d be petrified of Ludwig too! This is so much fun to read!

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