“I will be so happy when winter is over,” Mistress Jessica grumbles as she parks her car next to her mailbox after a long day at work. Same shit, different day; it feels like she’s a hamster stuck running on that damn wheel and never able to get off. As is usual this time of year, her husband is away on a business trip, so of course Mother Nature decides to drop a few inches of snow on the ground while she was at work. So before she can enter the house, she has to shovel the driveway and sidewalk.

“Yippee, just what I wanted to do today,” she says sarcastically as she glares at the offending white precipitation that blankets everything in sight. Jess yanks open her mailbox, wondering why she bothers since it’s almost always junk. Or a random package from weird websites since her husband has an addiction to t-shirts and can’t seem to stop buying them. The man has three closets to her one. And don’t get her started on the shoes and sweatshirts!

“Junk, junk, and more . . . wait. What’s this?” Jess has been flipping through the mail and comes to a thick, cream-colored envelope addressed only to her. It looks like a wedding invitation, but they would be addressed to mister and misses. She flips it over, but there is no return address. Shoving the rest of the mail back in the box, she carefully rips open the envelope.

In appreciation for all your hard work,

the owners of Fangtasia wish to extend their deepest thanks.

Please join us for an evening to help promote your creativity.

Friday, March 27, 2015,

Half past nine in the evening.

This is a private event; invitation is required.

“OH SHIT! Here we go again,” Jess says excitedly as a huge smile spreads across her face. Thanks to the invitation from the owners of Fangtasia, she doesn’t mind shoveling snow one bit. She hurries through the bothersome chore so that she can get inside and talk with her other writer friends to see who else has gotten the invite.


Discussion has been rampant between Jess and the other fanfiction writers. No one knows what to expect from the invitation that had been sent out by the owners of Fangtasia, especially given the follow-up email that had been sent to everyone indicating the dress code. Clothing for this year’s event is casual, though an acceptable list of “casual” items had been included as an attachment. What was puzzling to everyone was the last statement of the email. “Come with pen, paper, and an open mind.”

What the hell does that mean?

Of course, no one is daring enough to email Fangtasia to ask what that means. No one wants to have their invitation revoked because they pissed off the wrong set of fangs.

After last year’s festivities, the writers can only hope for a similar occurrence. The invitation has been the hot topic of conversation among the various Facebook groups the ladies belong to. No one believes The Viking will repeat his performance from last year. Neither he nor his progeny like to be predictable. The newer writers to the fanfiction community lamented that they would not have the opportunity to see Eric Northman doing his best Magic Mike imitation for them. But as Kelpie had pointed out to another writer, Magic Mike has nothing on the sexy vampire.

To quote Kelpie, “Ungf!”

Some in The On-Going Detestation of Bill Fucking Compton group on Facebook speculated that perhaps the invitation stated to be comfortable because they are going to witness Bill Compton’s final death. At last year’s event, it came to light that the most despised vampire in Louisiana was the leader of the Fan Fiction Fraternity, or the FFF. This organization plagues the writers that post on http://www.fanfiction.net. It is their life’s work to drive away all those authors that write stories with Sookie and Eric living happily ever after. Many writers have abandoned ffn.net because of these trolls, choosing to post their stories on platforms that have greater content control. For many authors, the FFF has not been as much of a bother in the past year, but there have been a few authors that have been hit hard by those vicious, pesky anonymous reviewers. Perhaps Bill Compton is finally going to get his comeuppance for being a major thorn in everyone’s side.

One can only hope.

As the day of the event gets closer, the speculation about the event increases and ranges from the absurd to the mundane. Why would vampires get all the fanfiction writers together for a knitting class? Perhaps they have had enough of the common mistakes in fanfiction stories and have arranged for an English 101 refresher? Could it be something that will help them design their individual websites and promote their stories? Or is it possible that Eric is going to spring out of Aladdin’s lamp and grant the collective group three wishes? Maybe he’s going to teach them how to defend against a vampire attack? Pam is tired of them struggling to describe her wardrobe and is going to give them in depth descriptions of her favorite outfits from the last five years of fashion, including pictures, and biographies of the designers?

Personally, Jess thinks there is a better chance of Mags’ infamous flying monkeys coming to her house or that she’ll finally get over the visual horror of Meridian’s seal sex crack fic.

Nope, still not enough brain bleach in the world for that one.

Speaking of Mags . . . where the hell has she been? Did she receive an invitation too? Is she going? Does she even know what the hell is going on in the world of fanfiction since she’s been wrapped up in Girl Scout Cookie season? Facebook and text messages have not yielded a response. Jess has sent a few emails, but again, no response. The woman is incommunicado, and is possibly going to miss one of the greatest nights of the year!

Jess’ phone begins ringing with the Wicked Witch’s theme from The Wizard of Oz. She smiles as she swipes her finger across the screen to answer. “I was wondering where you were!”

“I’m here, just finished up everything with Girl Scout Cookie season,” Mags says with a sigh. “I never want to see a thin mint or a Samoa for as long as I live!”

Jess chuckles. “Do I want to know how many boxes of cookies are in your pantry?”

“No you don’t. Enough about that. What’s this about the second annual Fangtasia’s Writers Appreciation Night? Please tell me you got an invitation,” Mags says with a whimper.

“Of course I got an invitation! I was wondering if you had gotten an invitation.”

“I’d misplaced it and just found it when I was going through the last of the paperwork for the Girl Scouts. Are we going?”

Jess responds in a sarcastic tone. “Does Eric Northman have a gracious plenty? Of course we are going! Kristie, Charissa, and Kelpie . . . hell everyone is going. I’ve even bought a new outfit to conform to Pam’s casual dress code. You’ll be proud of me; I’m going to wear heels.” You don’t piss off vampires by refusing their invitation to a special event. And you certainly don’t want to piss off the hostess by showing up in something less than appropriate. Pam is not shy about letting you know what she thinks, as shown by some of the reviews she has left authors in the past year. However, the Victorian vampire has been surprisingly quiet when it comes to the stories that have popped up in the last year showing her in a less than flattering light.   Jess can only imagine the reception she and some of the other authors are going to get from Eric’s youngest progeny this year.

Hopefully it doesn’t land her at the bottom of an alligator farm. It is only fiction after all.

“Good Lord I need to find an outfit,” Mags moans.

Jess snickers. “Make sure you leave the sparkly barrettes and scrunchies at home. Pam will eat you alive.”

Mags grumbles, “Where’s a flying monkey when you need one?”


Nerves and excitement abound the day of the annual writer’s appreciation night. The authors spend the day pampering themselves, making sure they look their absolute best for the vampires. It may be casual, but no one wants to look anything but their best for Eric Northman. During the day, Bobby Burnham had sent an email to each writer, letting them know when they would be picked up for the night’s festivities. The email also reiterated that they were to come with pen and paper in hand. Jess made sure to grab a fresh journal for herself and Mags as well as a handful of pens. She’d thrown the items in her Kate Spade black and white polka dot purse and was eagerly waiting for her ride to show up. Her email had indicated her ride would arrive at quarter to eight. She wondered if she would be alone in the car or if she would be the last stop before going to Fangtasia. Actually, she didn’t know if this year’s event would be held at Fangtasia. The only information on the invitation was the date and time. The email had been no help as to what or where they were going. She had laughed uncontrollably when she’d seen Bobby Burnham’s email signature, “Assistant to the glorious and magnificent Sheriff of Area Five, Eric the Norse Man, the infamous warrior from the North.”

Either Pam has a wicked sense of humor, or Eric truly has no idea what his assistant’s email signature was. The Viking does not need someone to toot his horn so to speak, so Bobby’s email signature must be to make himself feel more important. As if the pompous toad needed anything else to inflate his ego.

Jess gives herself a last look in the mirror to make sure she will meet Pam’s critical eye. She’s chosen to wear a sleeveless ombre maxi dress that starts olive-green at the top and fades to tan at the bottom with a thin tan leather belt around her waist. In case she gets cold, she’s got a tan shimmer denim jacket to go with it. It’s a casual yet dressy look that she’s paired with her strappy tan sling backs. With her jewelry in place and no lipstick on her teeth, Jess leaves the comfort of her house to wait impatiently on her porch for her ride to arrive. Thankfully, she does not have to wait long. It’s not a limousine like last year; it’s a black party bus. The vehicle stops in front of her house, with loud music coming from the interior. The door to the bus opens, letting the music and her closest friends in the fanfiction community spill out.

“Come on Jess! Time, tide, and vampire wait for no woman!” Kleannhouse is standing in the doorway wearing a pair of fitted jeans, a white t-shirt, and matching brown leather jacket and boots. Behind her stands Kelpie looking very bohemian in a maxi dress with a black tank top and multi-colored skirt that swishes around her ankles. Miss Rissa stands at the top of the bus steps in a short red flowing dress with a black leather jacket.

Jess hurries down the driveway towards her friends, hugging each one before she climbs up in the bus. Inside the bus are two more of her friends. Mags is at the bar fixing her a drink and the Queen of Area Five is sitting on the back seat of the bus, staring at the stripper pole in front of her.

“This is giving me an idea for a new story,” the Queen of Area Five says as she eyes the pole with interest. She grins widely once Jess sits next to her with her drink in hand. “A very wicked idea.”

Jess laughs as she gives her friend a hug. “Aren’t all your ideas wicked?”

“Of course. Their more fun that way,” she admits with a naughty smirk. “I can totally see using this bus for Willa and Sookie in Wild and Wicked: The Bachelorette Party.” The interior of the bus is done with black leather bench seats, gray carpeting and a mirrored ceiling. There are blue, pink, and purple neon lights along the ceiling and walls making it look like the inside of a club.

“I want to read that! I want more!” Rissa bounces excitedly on her seat at the thought of more story updates.

Everyone on the bus laughs as the driver turns out of the neighborhood to head to their secret destination. When doesn’t Rissa want to read more? As the vehicle makes its way to their secret destination, the friends drink, dance, and laugh to get their night started off on the right foot. It’s a night to appreciate the fanfiction writers of the TB/SVM community, but at its heart, it’s a night for friends to get together and have fun.


The first mystery of the evening is solved; the party bus pulls up to Fangtasia. There are no hordes of protestors this time; no need for security. In fact, it looks like the club does when it’s closed because the parking lot is empty and there is no line of desperate fangbangers waiting to enter. The driver stops the vehicle in front of the entrance and opens the door so the women can climb down the steps to enter the club. The door swings open and the ladies enter quickly, curious to see what the décor for this year is. It is . . . underwhelming. Instead of looking like a party, the club is brightly light and set up to look like a classroom with a large dry erase board on the stage.

What the hell?!?!?!?

“Hey ladies,” a perky voice says from behind the bar. Ginger is standing behind the bar wearing a black track suit with red trim and the name of the bar scrawled over her heart. “Have a seat wherever there’s room. I’ll be around in a few minutes to get y’alls order.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kelpie mutters quietly as the women look for empty seats. It seems this year there is no reserved seating, so they end up with seats near the back of the club. It really is like a college lecture room; wooden chairs with the half desk attached to them. The women take their bags and hang them off the backs of their chairs. Each of them pulls their notebooks out with their pens. It does seem that tonight is going to be a lecture of some kind. How the hell does that show their appreciation for the writers? Free alcohol doesn’t make a classroom lecture any easier to sit through. The buzz from their earlier excitement crashes and burns as they sit glumly in their seats.

“Psst,” someone whispers from Jess’ right side. All the newcomers turn their head to see Fairytale Amber and Gyllene sitting near them. Fairytale Amber asks, “Do you know what the hell we’re doin’ here?”

Jess and company shake their heads no. “No clue, but they flew me in from England for this. It’d better be good,” the Queen of Area Five replies.

“Oh it will be,” Ginger says brightly as she appears in front of the women to get their drink orders. “Master and Pam want to help everyone improve their stories, so they’ve come up with a little workshop tonight for everyone’s benefit. It should be very educational,” she says with a bright smile. “What can I get y’all?”

After everyone places their order, they sit in dejected silence once Ginger bounces away. “A workshop on a Friday night? I’d rather be home with the kiddos doing a mountain of laundry than sitting through this,” Kelpie groans. The others nod their heads and express similar sentiment.

“But at least we get to see Eric,” Rissa reminds everyone excitedly. “That’s better than anything any of us would have had going on tonight.”

“Always the optimist,” Jess smiles at her friend as Ginger returns with their drinks. Everyone thanks the waitress who smiles airily before moving on to the next set of writers. The atmosphere has definitely taken a nose dive. Last year, the women were rowdy, chatting animatedly, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. This year, it’s somber; not quite like a funeral, but it definitely isn’t happy.

“Quiet! It’s my turn to talk. No one has any interest in what you have to say. You speak when you are spoken to. Comprende?” Pamela Ravenscroft, co-owner of Fangtasia, strides purposefully out on the stage. A few snickers erupt from the crowd of authors when they take in her outfit. She looks like every guy’s vision of a hot school teacher. Pam’s luxurious blonde hair is pulled back in a bun held in place by two yellow pencils. Her makeup is flawless; smoky eyes hidden behind a pair of black glass without lenses and bright red lips. She’s wearing a tight white button down open so low that the top of her black lace bra is visible. A black pencil skirt hugs her hips and buttocks and her shapely legs are encased in sheer black stockings with the line down the back of them. Her ensemble is completed with a pair of skyscraper black heels that click angrily against the stage floor.

“Does anyone else suddenly have the lyrics for Hot for Teacher in their head?” Kleannhouse whispers behind Mistress Jessica which causes all the authors in the immediate area to giggle.

“Something you care to share with the rest of the class?” Pam asks the question as she vamps directly in front of the author and beta extraordinaire. Kleannhouse sits back in her chair and shakes her head vigorously, indicating she has nothing to share.

Pam smirks. “I thought so,” she drawls and spins around to address the entire room. “Now the reason we’ve called you all her tonight is because we felt that you needed some one-on-one time with the vampires that you are writing about. There are some discrepancies in your stories which frankly piss us off. If you’re going to write about us, at least get our features correct.”

Pam has walked through the entire room, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Her eyes zero in on a select few individuals. “My master has prevented me from draining those of you that have written that I would do anything to dishonor him. You should be grateful that he has interfered,” she says in a sour tone. Mistress Jessica, the Queen of Area Five, and Magsmacdonald share relieved looks with Pam’s less than enthusiastic proclamation. They knew she wouldn’t be happy with their stories, but honestly, what were they supposed to do with the crap they were given in Season 7 of True Blood? If she has any issues, take it up with the production staff that gave them that crap!

Pam’s journey through the room has taken her back to the stage where she walks up the steps to reach the dry erase board. “First, I do not have the power to fly or levitate. My maker must have done something wrong when he made me since I have not been gifted with such talent,” she says casting a baleful glance towards the left wing of the stage. A deep male voice says something in a foreign language which causes Pam’s to roll her eyes.

“As for my physical features,” she continues while picking up a dry erase marker, “they are very easy to describe: pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and womanly curves. Any synonyms expressing these ideas are perfectly acceptable. Do not refer to me as an Alice in Wonderland lookalike. No, I was not a Madame in a brothel; my human life was spent in England.” She notates quickly on the board the key phrases describing her and the fanfiction writers quickly copy her words on their papers so that they do not earn any more of her ire.

“As for whom I am, these are only two things you need to know. One, I am loyal to my maker above all others; and two, I am loyal to my maker above all others. Any questions?” Her fangs have snapped down as she waits for someone to challenge her words. No one in the audience has a death wish, so they remain silent.

Pam’s fangs retract and she smiles engagingly at the crowd before turning back to the board. Vamp speed has the board erased and then filled completely back up with a list of words. She turns back to the gathered writers and her eyes shine with humor as her lips curve again in a smile.

“The words I have written on the board are all perfectly acceptable adjectives to describe another vampire that resides in Area Five or should I say resided in Area Five? Can anyone guess who it is?”

Some of the writers are furiously scrambling to copy the entirety of the board, so focused on their task they are not even processing the words that they are writing. Others have stopped to actually read the words that Pam has written on the board. They look puzzled as they read the first few but by the fifth or sixth word they are chuckling as it dawns on them who the vampire in question is. Words such as priggish, supercilious, hypocritical, dour, and repugnant stand out to describe the vampire’s personality, but the phrases that describe the physical attributes of the vampire in question are comical. Bloated, doughy, infantile penis, vomit-inducing, and fashion-victim are just a few of the more interesting descriptive words on the board.

Pam smiles fully with her fangs extended as more and more of the writers begin chuckling at the board. “Now if these don’t suffice to describe Bill Compton, you can always use some of my favorite expressions. I’ve spent years perfecting these and make a point to get at least one of them in every conversation,” she says proudly.

Mistress Jessica’s hand shoots up in the air before Pam continues. The vampire places her hands on her hips and looks annoyed at the interruption. “What?”

“In the interest of quoting you accurately, may we use our cell phones to record this portion of the evening? I’d hate to misquote you by mistake.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made me do or say something that goes against my character,” Pam snaps in irritation. Her expression becomes placid as she runs her hands down her hips. “However I see merit in your suggestion, so yes, you may record me. But only as long as I am teaching you my favorite insults for Compton.”

The writers scramble frantically to pull their cell phones from their bags and set up the audio recording option. You could hear a pin drop as all the writers wait eagerly to hear Pam’s insults for one of the most despised vampire’s in their fandom. Once Pam sees everyone is ready for her to begin, she tosses her head back and enunciates clearly so that the devices will record her easily.

“Constipated with the personal style of roadkill.”

“Stuck in the 80s . . . the 1880s.”

“Careful Bill, I heard the wolves are looking for a new chew toy.”

The volley of insults about Bill Compton continues for several minutes with the braver of the fanfiction authors raising their hands to offer their suggestions for ways to insult the antebellum vampire. It eventually becomes a contest to see who can come up with the most inventive way of insulting the rigid vampire. The ladies are all warming to their topic and could easily go on all night, but Pam raises her hand to stop everyone from talking again.

“And last but not least, my personal favorite . . . douchecanoe. That one can be used all the time,” Pam chuckles along with most of the others in the audience.

“Are there any questions before we move on to the next part of our evening?” She looks around expectantly but finds none. “Good. Put away all cell phones and cameras. There is no photography of any kind for the next part of our evening. Phones away . . . NOW!”

“Come now Pam, they can leave their phones out,” Eric Northman responds as he strolls quietly out on the stage. He’s wearing a navy track suit and his feet are in a pair of navy A.D.I.D.A.S. flip flops. He grins wickedly at the women in the audience who are staring at him agog while his hands are fisted in the pockets of his pants. “I’ve never been shy about having my picture taken. What’s the expression? Oh yes. ‘All right Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up’.” The tone of his voice smolders while his expression conveys the look of someone in the throes of passion.

For a moment, it seems as if time has stopped. The assembled group of writers sits in suspended animation, not quite believing their eyes. But all it takes is a single second for the silence to shatter and have the club fill with deafening screams, whistling, and applauding. Camera flashes flicker around the room as the women eagerly snap pictures of their favorite vampire. When the cameras come out, the gorgeous vampire’s eyes light up and he begins doing his best Zoolander impersonations as he struts up and down the catwalk.

Pam rolls her eyes as she watches her maker and his adoring public. She taps her foot impatiently against the stage as she waits for him to finish basking in the glow of their adoration. This could go on all night if she doesn’t put a stop to it and soon. Luck is on her side though and she sees an opportunity to get things back on track when she notices some of the authors trying to get out of their seats to get closer to the stage.

“Keep your asses in those seats or else I’ll have Amelia turn all of you into the true jackasses you are! Something tells me people won’t find you as adorable as the blue donkey Milne wrote about,” Pam sneers towards the authors.

“She wouldn’t do that would she?” One of the newer authors to fanfiction asks in a loud whisper, horrified at the thought of being transformed into an animal.

“Go on, test her. She if she means what she says,” the Queen of Area Five goads. “But remember you have no one but yourself to blame when you find your ass getting whipped by some bloke telling you to get a move on while working as a pack mule in a diamond mine.” The new author squeaks in fear and shrinks back down in her seat.

Mistress Jessica leans toward her friend, humor in her voice as she asks, “A diamond mine?”

The Queen shrugs. “Pam does love her jewels. It was either that or as a drug mule in Columbia.”

Jess and the other writers in the immediate area snort with laughter as they envision the Queen’s highly descriptive scenario. “At least you didn’t go towards bestiality,” Kelpie says in between giggle snorts.

“Oh Christ, now I have images a crack fic about a wereass. Brain bleach, stat!” Jess moans in horror and pounds her head lightly against the desk as she tries to expel the repugnant images from her brain.

“This is one of those times I hate our brain share,” the Queen of Area Five mutters in horror as her face contorts with disgust. “I don’t know what’s worse; a crack fic about a wereass or writing about Compton having sex.”

“Compton having sex,” is the unanimous reply from everyone that is listening to their conversation, which earns a hearty laugh from the vampires on stage.

“Ladies!” Eric commands the attention of the room by raising his voice. “I promise to put a far better visual in your heads. As Pam told you earlier, tonight is about helping you improve your craft. So far she has focused on two of the key side characters that all of you write about. Now let us focus on the main protagonists of your stories: me.” The audience buzzes with excitement as he nods at Pam, letting her know that it is time to begin.

“Alright ladies, first things first,” she drawls. “The proper ways to refer to Eric Northman are as follows: Sheriff of Area Five, The Viking, Eric the Norse (North) man, or master,” she finishes with a smirk that makes Eric cringe.

“When referring to Eric and his relationship with Sookie all that is necessary is ‘bonded’. Whatever lies you’ve seen or read in your ‘canon’ are not true. However we cannot discuss that any further as advised by our legal counsel, Mr. Cataliades.”

Kleannhouse nudges Mistress Jessica and hands her a piece of paper. Jess looks at the written words and smirks at the truth of those words.

Someone should have sued their asses a long time ago. I wonder if they can get our money back too.

“Now as you can see, Eric has blond hair that is longer, which is how the men of his time period wore their hair.” Pam lifts strands of his hair to show both the color and length. “He does not cut his hair nor does he let me highlight it, though I have requested it many times since it would be better for business.” Pam is pandering to the crowd, hoping that they will be able to sway Eric’s opinion, but he merely shakes his head once letting her know she will not be getting her way.

On a huff, Pam continues. “Blue eyes, or any other synonym is appropriate, though the exact shade is cyan. Notice his stubble along the jaw line; it is always present. Vampires cannot permanently alter their appearance; if we cut our hair, it will reset itself during the day while we are dead. Notice I said dead, not sleeping,” she states archly.

Eric moves towards the middle of the stage his hands coming out of his pockets to lower the zipper on the jacket of his track suit. His muscles flex and ripple as he removes the garment, tossing it to the side when it is completely off. He grins in a cocky manner as he flexes, showcasing the chiseled definition of his arms, pectorals, and abdominal muscles.

“Holy shit!”

“He’s fucking hot!”

“Break me off a piece of that!”

“Oh my God!”


The last is said by Kelpie on a whimper as she stares at Eric Northman, biting down hard on her lower lip.

“For the next part of our discussion, I am in need of an assistant,” Pam states and every single author’s hand shoots up in the air.

“Hate to burst your bubble gals, but the assistant is me.” Sookie Stackhouse smirks as she walks out on the stage. Every hand immediately lowers and a few grumbles about her being a “lucky bitch” float up to the stage. Eric stiffens at the grumbled words and looks ready to pounce on the rude guests, but Sookie’s hand on his arm stops him.

“It’s OK sweetie; they’re just wishin’ they were in my place. Nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” Sookie stares deeply in Eric’s eyes, letting him know that everything is alright, that she isn’t hurt by the few rude members of the audience. Eric eventually relaxes his stance, bringing her fingers to his lips to kiss in a sign of affection before resuming his earlier model pose.

Pam, however, does not let the slight against Sookie go unpunished. “I hope you enjoy your time here tonight, because it will be the last invitation you ever receive.” Her eyes are shooting daggers at the individuals she knows were responsible for the uncharitable remarks against her maker’s bonded. Sookie nods her head at Pam, letting her know that it’s time to get on to the next portion of the night’s events.

“Notice the skin,” Pam begins in the bored tone of a professor lecturing in front of an auditorium. “No marks, no discolorations; it is as white as marble.”

“Eric has muscle definition; not that of a body builder, but of a man who spent his life training as a soldier and fighting in battles.” The vampire Pam speaks of has shifted his stance so that the muscles of his upper body are flexing for the females in the audience. “Our tour of my master’s body begins with his front half. Shall we begin with the arms?”

As if any of the fanfiction authors are stupid enough to argue with Pam about where she wants to start the lecture on Eric Northman’s body. A Viking Vampire Sex God is standing in front of them half naked; does the female vampire honestly think any of them are listening to her?!?!?!

“For the uneducated among you, and I’m sure that’s many of you,” Ms. Ravenscroft sasses. “The arms consist of the forearm muscles, biceps, triceps, and deltoids.” Sookie is stands behind Eric so that only her dainty hands and arms are visible. While Pam talks, Sookie runs her hands along Eric’s body to highlight the areas that the lecturer speaks of. From the looks of it, Sookie’s touch is light, teasing Eric as he stands perfectly still. Though he does not move, you can tell that he is responding to the delicate touch of his bonded. The color of Eric’s eyes have darkened; his blue-green eyes becoming more cerulean as his lover caresses his body. His eyes aren’t the only part of him responding to the touch of the woman he loves; the fabled gracious plenty is standing at attention, begging for relief.

“This is better than all the shirtless Friday posts on Facebook!” Miss Rissa stares fixated at the vampire idolized by millions of devoted fans; the vampire that has spawned thousands of fanfiction stories, Facebook groups, and Twitter posts.

“Those arms,” Gyllene exclaims. “You know I love those arms!”

“From the deltoids, we move on to the pectoral and oblique muscles. As you can see, clearly defined musculature without an ounce of flab, unlike some vampires that have to suck it in when going shirtless.” Pam’s jab at Bill Compton does not go unnoticed and many in the audience titter in amusement.

A sharp indrawn breath from Eric followed by a low groan has the crowd snapping their eyes back to them. Sookie’s fingernails have scratched a path up her bonded’s stomach to his nipples which she’s pinched roughly. The rosy buds are a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Pam arches an eyebrow at her mistress who grins impishly. “What?”

“Keep it up Lover,” Eric hisses between his fangs. “Maybe you want these women to see how you respond when I play with you.”

“You know they aren’t here to see me. They’re here to see you, the star attraction.” Sookie runs her hands down the center of Eric’s chest and abs, coming to trace along the V muscle or flank, a group of muscles along the lower abs and groin that drive women absolutely crazy. As Kleannhouse once called them, they are the pathway to Valhalla. Sookie continues to caress this area on Eric’s body, making him twitch and growl. Whimpers come from the crowd as they watch Sookie caress the object of their affection.

“What I wouldn’t give to take her place?” Kelpie licks her lips hungrily as Sookie’s hands dip inside the waist of Eric’s pants.

“I think we all feel that way doll,” Mistress Jessica says as she stares without blinking at the stage.

Sookie removes her hands from Eric’s body as Pam tells the audience they will now be focusing on a different section of Eric’s body: the posterior.

With those words, Eric has turned around so his back is to the crowd, and lowered his pants so that nothing is left to the imagination. A hushed silence falls on the crowd as they stare at the perfectly sculpted backside of Eric Northman. There are simply no words to describe the sheer magnificence of the nude male form in front of them.

“I just wanna bite it,” Miss Rissa says in awe. Several others nod in the crowd as they stare fixated on the part of the male vampire’s body that his bonded has proclaimed as her favorite.

Sookie giggles as she squats down to the side of her mate’s body and begins running her hands up the muscular calf muscles, stopping to tickle the backs of his knees. Who knew a vampire could be ticklish?!?! As she shifts up from her lowered stance, her hands glide up his strong thighs before firmly cupping his backside which causes many groans and sighs in the crowd.

“Any questions?” Sookie says cheeky while squeezing Eric’s cheeks.

Pam smirks while enjoying the glazed over eyes and drooling mouths, knowing not a single one of the authors in the room is paying attention to her. “Well there’s only one thing left to discuss.”

At her nod, Sookie unhands Eric who spins around and stands proudly with his body on display. Sookie bites her lip and stares hungrily at her bonded who in turn smirks at her. He mouths the word, “Later,” to her. She nods her head eagerly before scampering off stage. If she had stuck around for this part of the demonstration, things would have turned pornographic in a heartbeat.

“As you can see,” Pam begins, “a ‘gracious plenty’ is an appropriate moniker when it comes to describing the male genitalia on my maker. However, ‘Yikes. Yahoo. Yum,’ is not. This is not a candy store, and we are most definitely not children. Take the bull by the horns,” at which Eric’s hand closes around his impressive erection. Magsmacdonald slumps down in her chair, whispering Hail Marys as she blushes the color of a fire hydrant. Others in the crowd are fanning themselves rapidly; one or two women drop to the floor in a dead faint.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Fairytale Amber whispers as they watch Eric firmly stroke his cock.

“I thought it was a myth,” Kelpie whispers with perfectly round eyes as she takes in his impressive length.

The Queen of Area Five and Mistress Jessica glance at each other briefly before staring at the Viking standing on display. Smutty will definitely be working overtime based on what they are seeing tonight. He is no longer holding himself, but his cock still stands at attention. Pam walks forward so that she is standing beside the vampire that gave her this existence. “Notice that he is not circumcised. Nor is he the size of a Tootsie roll. In case you are wondering,” she produces a ruler from behind her back and places it against Eric’s Viking longship. “He is an impressive eight and a half inches. The average male penis is slightly over six inches.” Eric smirks again with the proof that he is anything but average.

With a dramatic flourish, Eric bows to the women in the audience before vamping off the stage. His abrupt departure awakens the women from their trance and many of them pout over his disappearance.

“That concludes our lessons for the evening. Now get the fuck out,” Pam snarls before she too vamps off the stage.

“Well that was informative,” Kleannhouse exclaims as she slowly rises from her seat. She like many of the other authors are a bit stunned by everything they have seen here tonight. There is a mass exodus, the fanfiction authors splitting off into different groups to chatter excitedly about what they have seen here this evening. Many are even comparing notes as they climb back into the waiting buses.

Gyllene and Fairytale Amber wave good-bye to the group of women that Mistress Jessica had arrived with. Their bus is closest to the rear of the building, so she and the other authors that she arrived with slowly walk to the back of the nondescript building. The group of friends find they have nothing to say to each other; each lost in their own thoughts about the Viking. All of their thoughts are of a similar vein though. The vampire they had seen tonight had been more than they could have ever imagined, and they hope they can do him justice in their future endeavors.

As they trudge to their bus, the back door of Fangtasia opens and their stands the object of their fictional musings. Once again, he is dressed in his navy tracksuit and flip flops. “Did you ladies enjoy yourselves this evening?” Eric looks down at each of them, smirking because he knows exactly how much they had enjoyed it. The women all nod their heads vigorously, too stunned to speak.

“Well I do hope you found tonight’s session helpful. Be sure to let me know if you ever need a refresher course. After all, I am a fervent patron of the arts,” he says with a smirk before stepping back inside his place of business.

“Did he just . . .” Kelpie starts but is unable to finish her question.

“Yeah sweetie; he just offered to get naked for us when we want,” Mistress Jessica confirmed with a wide-eyed stare as her face slowly morphs into a huge grin. “So? Who wants to come back next week?” The circle of friends burst out laughing as they hurriedly climb into the bus, wishing time would fly by so they can come back for a repeat performance.

~ The End

Here is the photo that inspired the conversation in Facebook that ultimately led me to this story.  Thank you Gyllene, FairyTale Amber, Kleannhouse, and any of the other wonderful women that participated in this conversation.  🙂


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20 Responses to 2015

  1. Pingback: Happy Easter |

  2. Smutty is just dancing around now singing, “I wanna sex you up.” Eric and Sookie are in for some fun times. ☺️

  3. Kelpie says:

    Oh my God darlin-just… Ungf!!!!

  4. Meridian says:

    *Breaks into hidden stash of the GOOD brain bleach designed especially to eradicate any lingering SSSSS images of the unfortunate variety*
    You know, I could totally see Eric sending personally autographed “pictorial demonstrations” of his physique to all attending fic writers a week later…to thank them for their attendance, of course…

  5. gyllene says:

    That conversation was so long ago! I love that you wrote about it. Loved it. Such a fun one-shot.

  6. Oh my, oh my, oh my! That was quite the tasty treat. Yes, I was drooling. That was fun, I can’t wait to write with this “hands on” tutorial in mind. Thank you Mistress Jessica!

  7. Laura says:

    Great story!
    The anatomical name for the crease between the torso and the thigh is the ‘inguinal crease’.
    The road to Valhalla indeed…;)

  8. Kittyinaz says:

    Oh god…. Yum…. Lmao!! So cheeky!! Thank you milady!!

  9. mom2goalies says:

    Holy crap! You guys have the most fun, sigh. I wish some readers are invited next time! Lol

  10. kleannhouse says:

    loved it and the road to Valhalla, sigh….. KY

  11. msbuffy says:

    Loved it! That pic is definitely inspirational. You all have so much together!

  12. Pingback: Updates: 5-17-15 | SVM & TB Stories

  13. kleannhouse says:

    sigh the pathway to Valhalla and my heart… KY

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