ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA… PART 36. AN EROTIC HORROR TALE BY SANDRA HARRIS. © STRICTLY FOR OVER-EIGHTEENS ONLY.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me, Harker,” said Sir Blaise Carfax as he handed his hat, his cloak and his gold-topped cane to his manservant. They were standing in the huge ornate hall of Richmond House.
“It weren’t no trouble at all, sir,” replied John Harker respectfully. He was tall and well-built, thirty years old and with thick dark hair that he wore brushed neatly back. Good-looking chap, Sir Blaise often thought. By rights, he should have had every little housemaid in the place clamouring round him like flies at an open pot of jam, but he kept them all effortlessly at a distance.
“Well, you can get yourself off to bed now if you wish. I shan’t be needing you again tonight.” Sir Blaise said as he turned towards the room he used as his own private sitting-room. He needed a place of his own to go to where he could retreat occasionally from the constant wittering of women.
The house seemed full of women now that his cousins, Lady Athena and Lady Abigail Carfax, had come to stay at Richmond House with their mother, Lady Eleanor Carfax. They had come up from their magnificent old mansion in Cornwall to keep his mother company in the continuing absence of his abducted sister, Anna.
Not that the two beautiful blonde sisters seemed to spend much time actually in the company of either his mother or their own. All they ever seemed to do was gad about in their carriage seeing the sights of London and giggle like schoolgirls with an exceptionally juicy secret whenever he passed anywhere near them.
“If you’re sure, sir,” said John Harker.
“Yes, yes, off you go,” said Sir Blaise absent-mindedly as he turned to the sideboard and decanted a large whiskey into a cut-glass crystal tumbler.
“Very good, sir, thank you, sir,” replied John Harker, bowing his way backwards out of the room. Sir Blaise sat down in his favourite comfortable armchair and took a grateful swig of his drink. It had been a long, tiring day. Until the hour of six-fifteen in the pm, he’d been in the office of his largest furniture factory, going over the accounts. Things were going well, thank God, but they could always be better. One could never have enough money.
He’d had a visit then, just as he’d been leaving for the day, from that bumbling incompetent and- quite possibly- mental defective, Inspector Jonathan Waterstone. This was the so-called detective in charge of the investigation into Anna’s abduction by person or persons unknown.
The man had dropped in to inform him that there was still no news. No news! Anna had been missing for weeks and the police were still no nearer to finding out what had happened to her than they’d been at the start of the investigation.
Blaise had been left so aggrieved by the man’s visit that, once he’d finally managed to get rid of him, he’d sent a note round to the home of his fianceé, Lady Caroline Cotter, informing her that important business sadly prevented him from having dinner with her and her parents that evening. He just felt too tense and irritable to be sociable and Caroline was demanding and hard to please at the best of times.
He’d gone instead by carriage to Madame Corinne’s. There, twenty-year-old twins Barbara and Shelley had kissed and licked and caressed every inch of each others’ bodies for his edification before submitting to his lovemaking.
They each had waist-length brown hair, large breasts and full, round bottoms. They were beautiful and skilled in the art of pleasing a man. He’d energetically inserted his manhood between the pretty pink sex-lips of one and deep inside the tight backside of the other. As they were identical twins, Blaise frequently had trouble telling them apart.
He’d passed a pleasant evening at Madame Corinne’s. The twins had certainly taken his mind off his troubles, if only temporarily. Now, he heaved himself out of his chair and stood up, stretching widely. Damned armchair was so comfortable, he could have slept in it without any difficulty at all. He stubbed out the remains of his third cigar and finished up his second large whiskey.
Tiredly, he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. It had been a long day, he was more than a little drunk and he had an important business meeting at ten in the am tomorrow morning. The chap was filthy rich and could put a hell of a lot of business Blaise’s way. Blaise planned on getting into the office extra-early to go over what he intended to say to the fellow. Better to get a few hour’s shut-eye first, though.
Up in his darkened bedroom, Blaise turned up the wick on the oil lamp beside his bed, yawning hugely. When the room was illuminated, he turned to the bed and started when he saw the fully nude young woman stretched out provocatively on her belly across his eiderdown, propped up on her elbows as she laughed up at him mischievously. It was his twenty-one-year-old cousin, Lady Athena Carfax.
This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.
This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.
Sandra Harris. ©
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.
Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.
Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal.
She is addicted to buying books and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia, and would be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at: