By Graciela Ramos

An explosion of red silk comes flying out of the open closet door. It seems suspended in the air before it floats down over the corner of the bed provocatively. I love silk. That sheer, diaphanous, magical, floaty fabric that catches the light like nothing else can. Next the corset is found and comes flying out like a shot hitting the corner of the bed with a soft thud and sliding down the red skirt to the floor, its ties in a tangle. Red silk and black satin, it will have to do. I push the door open wider with my hip as I straighten the seams of my stockings. Black again, with red seams down the back, my legs look ridiculously long, ending in six inch heals and three inch black patent leather platforms. I pull down the black vintage slip to cover my pretty secret. Too bad a girl can't walk around flashing people with the tops of her stockings. Red lace, wherever did I find these? I guess it will just have to stay my little secret.

Picking up the skirt, I let the corset slide off. It is a gypsy skirt in layers of ruffles. It falls well past the slip, almost to the ankle. The sheer layers of skirt beneath the hem of the slip reveal my legs. I take a few steps to examine the reflection in the mirror. Turn around and catch the image from behind, nice!

The rhythm of the music playing down the hall catches my ear and I take two graceful steps and drop to a squat, picking up the corset with my left hand. More the move of an exotic dancer -- as I curl my right arm over my head and smoothly rise to standing again -- I may use this move on the dance floor tonight.

Time to put on the implement of torture. I tug on the corset to widen the laces. They slowly give to rhythmic pull, until they are wide enough to allow me to fasten it easily. Then the fun starts! If a corset is laced correctly, it is easy to put on by yourself. Otherwise, you need help. I've been doing this for a while. Looking at my back in the mirror, I shift and pull the center laces to the sides until I have achieved the smooth hourglass figure I love so well.

Now, for the finishing touches. The red lace bra shows through the black lace of the vintage slip. Too bad they don't make them like this anymore. I rearrange the Real Estate, pulling the flesh from the sides toward the front creating a provocative cleavage. Adjusting the bra straps and the slip straps for just the right effect. Style is in the details!

Speaking of details, I pull the clips out of my hair and the wine colored curls come cascading down. I toss them up again allowing certain curls to fall here and there one over my left eye, some cascading off the side. A pin here, two pins there a loose French twist of the mess in the back exploding into a mass of crazy curls at the top of my head. Just the kind of mess I was hoping for. A few rhinestone spider hair clips for accent and its done! Jewelry, I need jewelry, can't be seen without jewelry! Gloves? Not tonight. I pick up my favorite charm bracelets, silver beads dripping with little crosses of various styles. Onyx & silver crosses for earrings and a simple ribbon choker with an antique silver and garnet cross. I turn to look in the mirror again: perfect!

I undulate slowly to the music, Dead Can Dance, my arms and hands doing that snake charmer thing I like to do, something between belly dancer and Spanish dancer. Coming close to the mirror looking at my face. The iridescent glow of my skin with heavily lined eyes and darkened lips give me an otherworldly glow. Hardly a line on my face, I could pass for twenty, I've looked this way since I was thirty, who would know I've been walking this earth for almost fifty years!

Seems like yesterday my best friend Jewel talked me into going with her to some kind of Vampire Club. She was doing research for a book, a romance novel of sorts. I went along for the ride and moral support, I guess. How hard is it to dress in black to support one's best friend? I was about to find out. She had been telling me about what I thought was a dream. Some guy named Lewis who was a real life Vampire told her they were lovers in a past life. Yadda, yadda! Okay, it sounded like a nice twist and I would play devil's advocate to her story. As she wrote, I would comment on each character's motivation. It was even more fun, once she found the club.

Don't do anything I wouldn't do twice -- That's my motto! We attended opening night and became regulars at once. I felt special being on the guest list. I would rummage through thrift shops for unique garments, which I would turn into splendid outfits. It was fun attending each week and making an entrance.

Everyone would dress up. Little did I know, I had stumbled upon a life style. Most of the attendees wore custom made fangs made by the local fang smith! Talk about a niche market! I heard this guy lived in a black apartment and only came out at night. To each his own, I say.

Jewel had some fangs made and kept telling me the ongoing saga of the Vampire who loved her. As long as the book got written, I didn't care what she did for inspiration. I went right along as if the fairytale were real, but not really. Until one night, after she had explained to me that her Vampire lover had a long lost enemy who had recently been spotted in the vicinity. Oh what fun! The plot thickens! I thought. If my memory serves me, his name was Barabas and he wanted to hurt Jewel's boyfriend something fierce. She had been warned to be cautious and although her boyfriend and his friend -- who were both REAL Vampires -- would not show their face in a human Vampire Club, she said they would be close by. Yeah, right!

Well that night, for some strange reason, I had straightened my hair. Jewel's is straight, while mine is usually dramatically curly. It was a night in Early October when I died.

I had been enjoying a relationship of sorts with a very pretty boy named Gene. He was the typical Goth -- Johnny come lately, pretty as they come with a fear of commitment that left all he courted amiss. Funny the little things you remember. I had asked for a toy out loud after dabbing on a magical oil that was supposed to be able to grant my wish. I remember the spicy rich scent and how I ceremoniously dabbed it on my head, behind my ears, and on my wrists. "Remember to be careful what you ask for," said the little witch who sold it to me. That night Gene came up from behind and planted a kiss on my lips. I was so surprised yet happy for I knew my wish had come true!

Several weeks and twists and turns later, I found myself in the fire escape of the building the club was held in. It was a concrete room with a staircase reaching up to the roof and a steel door, which was to remain open at all times in case of fire. This room was at the end of a long corridor next to the ladies room. I remember many times walking gracefully down that long blood red hallway in a manner designed to show off the train of my dress behind me. It was a trendy, spooky, elegant affair with Goth art on the walls and sconces that mimicked torches. I would have dreams of walking down this long corridor and the door at the end of it. Little did I know these dreams were trying to tell me something.

I was having a mild argument with Gene. I knew it was over but obviously he wanted to continue the drama. Suddenly I noticed someone standing at the landing of the first flight of stairs. There was an eerie light coming from the industrial window next to the stairs. I could make out a man in an outfit, which, I have to say, befitted a classic Vampire right out of a movie! His clothes were immaculate right down to an overcoat that looked like it was made of a very fine wool. It was in a cut which looked like something from the turn of the century. I was surprised, strangely un-nerved by his presence and quietly told Gene to go get my "friend" and bring her here "Now!" He looked at me wide eyed as I pushed him out the door. Then faced this creature, that I somehow already decided, had to be the infamous Barabas. He studied me from where he stood, and spoke to me in a deep velvety voice, "Your friend is afraid of love." "Yes," I said, "and I will not have his life on my hands, even if he would rather die than be loved." He cocked his head in mock pity. "They all love you, do they not my dear? Even Lewis." How I had known he had me confused with Jewel, I don't know, but I made no move or even allowed myself to think that he was wrong in his deduction. In a flash, he was standing before me and had me in his arms with great force. I felt the stabbing pain at the base of  my neck and then a flood of delirium. It was a warm, drunken, swimming feeling, though very pleasurable as I recall. Just as suddenly, he stepped back letting me drop to the floor. I guess he had discovered his mistake and was none too pleased about it. Yet, at the same time, it was just a tiny bit late for me. Because, in my swimming state, I knew what it felt like to die from the loss of blood, the oxygen having trouble getting to the cells, like drowning, my body giving up and me without a care, just floating, floating away.

I recall hearing the noises; the door to the hallway open and Jewel's scream "LEWIS!" That was all I heard. At that point it was all a swimming dream. I felt someone picking up my limp body as if it were a pile of cloth whisked out the back door of the club.  The flash of white lace, a wrist bared and slashed red!  How? I did not know or care at that point. Then the miracle! I let go of life into a moment of blackness that was suddenly filled by the sparkling vibrancy of live Vampire blood! The rich red fluid was made to drip upon my lips and as it entered my slack opened mouth, it began to penetrate my skin in an unbelievable manner! I could feel it rush through my head, into my brain and into my jaws, down my neck, through the flesh into my lungs and I lurched up, eyes wide open in terrified surprise.

That's when I woke up.

© Graciela Ramos - All rights reserved

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