“Hey there, handsome,” she said, as I drank another glass. She was enchanting, like the ephemeral spells of fictional wizards. I twirled my mustache and stood up, reeling from the drink’s strength.

  “Hello. Have I met you before, madamoiselle?” I asked, in my best foreign accent.

  “Here by invitation, and curiosity, sir.” She said, seductively pulling a paper from her ample breast that was propped up by her tight chest bra.

  “Of course. Women like yourself shouldn’t be questioned thus. Will you join me in the merriment and honor me with a dance, mon ami?” I said, rising with an unsteady hand. I pocketed her invite.

  She smiled, and her eyes were still gazing like a predator around the audience, in between enchanting words and sweet nothings in my ear. She felt like she had me wrapped around her fingers, and I smiled, as my grip on my knife tightened. We moved through the dance, the most skilled at this among them all. She continuously looked at the evening sky, and suddenly her eyes widened.

  The music intensified as the gatekeeper who sent the invite the everyone was quiet and sweaty, at the doorway. I handed her over to another guest, who had just eaten.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Be back in a bit, mon amie.”

  “I’ll help myself to these delicacies around, dear,” she said, and suddenly pulled me closer and kissed me on the cheek. My arm hair rose on its ends. She was ravishing, and I couldn't wait till I had her in my chamber.

  And delicacies? The food was going bad soon, and some of it was rotten for quite a while. As though entranced, the guests were still engorging on the meats, day after day, while their sycophants complimented them for their lean and mean bodies, making vulgar jokes and flattering remarks while they ate till their throats were filled to bursting. Some had been eating for weeks, and they were still hungry somehow. It was time for me to put an end to this, yet I wanted to satiate my appetite for women before I could put an end to this. I would be rendered a hypocrite if I stopped them from engaging in their sins while I indulged in my own.

  Succulent, plump bodies and breasts, and all for my choosing. I moved toward the gatekeeper, who told me that only one invitee had not attended and that was the Baron’s wife, who was ill with blood rage. Her invitation had been stolen. Weeks ago.

  A few barons and lords approached me while I moved towards the woman with ill-concealed rage.

  “My lord, the food they keep throwing away is still good, in fact, it might just be better than the junk they keep shoveling into their mouths.”

  “My lord, have a look at my daughter, she’s almost of marriable age.”

  “My lord, I have an idea for a drink. A woman's blood, and nothing more.”

  I stopped for a moment and closed my eyes. The voices stopped, too.

  That sounds like a novel idea.