Erica's Vampire Diaries

By Jake Savage

Richard is an English college professor who has multiple affairs with his students. His wife has found out and is readying for a divorce while his daughter thinks he is a scumbag. His situation worsens when a beautiful classics professor arrives at the school. She seduces the professor and the bodies of the students he had affairs with begin appearing on the campus, drained of blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Canoza Publishing
• Release date: Oct 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386688464

Book preview

BOOK ONE

She was beautiful. Tall, slender, with pale skin so soft it was a pleasure just to touch it and small, firm breasts that she hid, charmingly, under heavy sweaters. Her hair was a warm auburn, and fell like a waterfall down her nubile back as she moved on top of him, a lustful smile on her lips as she ground her hips into his groin. Her name was Erica, an exchange student who had recently joined Richard’s class, and ever since he had first laid eyes on her, he knew he wanted her. There was something almost impossibly alluring about her, the way her slim legs looked in the short skirts she liked to wear to his lectures, the way her eyes sparkled as she watched him speak. At first he had just watched her from afar, trying to finally break the habit of a lifetime where he followed his desires without thought, but that something about her started to worm its way into his mind until the thought of not having her was almost a physical pain. It had been a slow process, one that lasted more than a month, where he built the relationship between himself, her Professor, and her, his student, then started to introduce elements that weren’t necessarily... appropriate. A small touch on the shoulder here, a look held a little too long, and a special brand of confident, yet self-deprecating humour that he had never known to fail. These became more pronounced as he saw, in her, the sparks begin to fly, and he fanned those flames. Fanned them, until, one dark winter evening, in his office he had leant over and, very gently kissed her. Richard remembered vividly the hunger with which she had responded, his own arousal making him nearly dizzy as she stripped her clothes off in front of him, and he was here again. They were still dressed, lying on a hotel bed, her on top of him as she slowly ground on the mound of his erection. Reaching up, he pulled the sweater off of her, and unhooked her bra, freeing those perfect breasts as he began to kiss and suck them, making her gasp and moan. She pulled his head up and kissed him deeply, their tongues sliding over each other, mouths interlocked in passionate embrace. He got tired of just having access to her breasts, and so tipped her off of him onto her front, then reached down and pulled her onto all fours. Gently, teasing at first, he pushed her plaid skirt up and off of her raised rear, exposing the firm cheeks below, and the tiny thong that barely covered her sex. Pulling the thong to the side, he began to finger her, enjoying how wet she was and how he could make her moan with the lightest of touches. She wanted this, wanted him. Lust overcame him, he undid his belt and hauled down his pants and underwear, then moved closer to slid inside her, the anticipation of the moment of penetration only making him harder-

‘Richard? Richard? Are you even listening to me?’

His wife’s voice, angry, upset, grating, brought him back to cold, dull reality with an unpleasant thump. Instead of a hotel room, he was in his living room at home, sitting on the too-firm black leather couch that he had always hated. The room was tastefully, if soullessly, decorated, with pale pastels and whites featuring heavily, only beaten by the awful modernist furniture. The same aesthetic applied throughout the entire house, with the exception of his daughter Emily’s room. They had allowed her to decorate her own space as a present, and so far it had changed colour... three times? At the moment it was a gothic black which matched the ridiculous eye makeup she insisted on wearing. Despite his efforts, he’d never been able to bring together his memory of the sweet little girl he’d once known with the angry young woman who stomped around his house on her phone. It was sad really. Outside of Emily’s room though, the house was so unstimulating and absent of character it wasn’t so much a lack of impression so much as a void of anything to interest the eye. Richard, a man who had always loved antiques and natural colours, despised it, but it had made his wife happy at the time. At the time was operative, because she certainly wasn’t happy now. Instead of the beautiful foreign exchange student, sitting opposite him was his wife of twenty years. She had once been beautiful herself, intelligent, witty, but stress, a difficult teenage daughter and a lack of exercise had aged her beyond her years, and added many more pounds than she had had when they first met. He still loved her, in his own way, but the spark, the fire they had had, it was long smothered by an increasingly nagging and hypercritical streak that had grown exponentially over recent years. His resentment wasn’t helped along by the fact that in the last decade they had maybe had sex once a year. So far this year it was still sitting at zero.

‘Well?’ she asked him, looking at him with incredulous eyes. Damnit, she wanted a response.

‘I’m listening, I swear I am.’ he replied, trying to sound engaged and empathetic as he moved his hand casually to cover the erection his fantasizing had caused.

‘That’s not what I was asking you Richard...’ she said, sounding exhausted for a moment before it was replaced with indignation again.

‘I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood you.’

‘How can you misunderstand my asking how many of your students you’ve slept with?’

‘I...’

‘Just tell me.’

‘...three.’

There was a heavy pause between them.

‘You’re such a bastard, you know that Richard?’

‘That’s not entirely fair...’

‘Well what would be? Cheating, power abusing asshole?’

He didn’t respond, feeling that silence was more appropriate.

‘And now you’re just shutting down completely.’ she said, throwing her hands up in exasperated defeat, ‘I’m trying to have a conversation and you’re just refusing, very mature.’

‘Well what do you want from me Angela?’ he retorted, folding his arms in frustration, why couldn’t she just leave him be? He was trying to give her what she wanted in this conversation, attentive yet contrite, and yet she still pushed him for more.

‘I want you to talk to me like an adult Richard!’

‘And tell you what exactly? I’ve already said I’m sorry so much I think it’s tattooed on the back of my teeth. Do you want me to go into detail? Do you want names? Do you want me to drop to my knees and beg your forgiveness, because I’ll do that if you want me to!’

‘Oh don’t be ridiculous. I’m just trying to work out why you did it.’

‘Maybe I just got sick of being nagged all the goddamn time...’ he said, not having meant to reply. He looked up at her guiltily, knowing he had gone too far, but unwilling to apologise.

She didn’t respond to him, instead her eyes just became wet and she sighed tiredly as she wiped them.

‘What happened to us Richard? We used to be so happy...’ Angela said eventually, looking out of the window at the birds that came and went on their feeding table, before turning to him.

He couldn’t meet her gaze then. There was too much pain, too much honest emotion, he couldn’t face it. Instead he just looked at the floor, unresponsive.

‘I’m so sick of this.’ she said as though to herself then stood up, ‘I want a divorce.’ she said flatly, her expression neutral.

‘You what?’ he asked, incredulous, having never even entertained the possibility.

She didn’t answer him, instead just turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her, leaving him with the silence of an empty house and the nagging weight of his own guilt. He sighed inwardly, she always