Dracula's Other Wife by Krellscholar

Story by Krellscholar

This is a work of my own creation and it is not my intent to plagiarize anyone, and all characters within are, to the best of my knowledge, the creation of my own moderately perverted mind. As such, however, it is my intent to write the most extreme statement of pornography as my cowardly psyche permits. Under no circumstances should anyone under 18, or 21 if that is what your local government demands, or any other non-Adult (Human or otherwise) read this. Regardless of my titillating descriptions of physique or characterizations, none of the characters within are, or were intended to be under eighteen years of age.

I hope you enjoy my digital literary wet dream and please feel free to comment on it.

Krellscholar@hotmail.com

Author’s Note: I started writing this over twenty years ago on a first generation Mac, and recently found it on a dusty, long packed away Zip drive cartrage. It takes place around 1975, a time of religious cults (Moonies), the height of NOW (lesbians), and post-Hippie drugs and sex. There is a .doc file of the story at the end.

Dracula’s “Other” Wife

Sept. 17, 1978

To the Most Holy and Learned Inquisitor, Cardinal Deus:

This depiction of a recent sighting and tracking of a surviving denizen of Dracula’s heinous and dispicable reign is primarily taken from a series of manuscripts discover in the Los Angeles River earlier in this year. The Manuscripts were produced by an unknown author, depicting the ‘intercourse’ between a certain private investigator and what most certainly was (and apparently still is) a remnant of Dracula’s cabal. The paths of this private investigator, as well as a number of her female associates, crossed with this creature’s path, and eventually melded with it.

I have been unable to find the whereabouts of any of these individuals.

If these findings are to be accepted, it could prove the hypothesis that Dracula did not limit his evil influences upon his victims to blood sucking alone.

I am, and remain, your most obedient servant:

Van Helsing

I.

Helen “Honey” Mitchell was petite, barely five foot tall in six inch heels, and devastatingly well built for her height with a full yet compact body, generous but firm hips and thrusting, conical breasts. A long haired fiery redhead with green eyes and freckles on her shoulders and the parts of her tits where they had been exposed to sunlight, she was fresh out of a private parochial girl’s school, not even nineteen yet, and full of youthful enthusiasm.

But to her boss, Laura Styles, her most important feature, besides the girl’s total devotion and dedication to Laura and her job, was her one bodily appendage that didn’t match her diminutive stature: a tongue longer (and vastly more talented in Laura’s opinion) than most men’s cocks. Furthermore, after four years of isolated, suburban girl’s school, she knew how to use it!

“Another hot one,” the tall, tanned, blond Ms. Styles mumbled as she stepped through the door leading into a nondescript third floor office. She was speaking to her secretary, Honey.

The redheaded teenager in the colorful, flowing mini-skirt responded with a wide-eyed and cheery Southern California beach bunny “Like-Hi!” and a flash of bright white teeth.

Yes, Laura thought while giving her (only) employee the first “looking over” of the day, it is good being the boss.

Laura was tall, not skinny but hardly fat, with long, athletic legs, attractive handfuls for tits, and hips graced with well formed buns straddling a dark, deep asscrack. Her sun-bleached hair was short, cut in a page-boy that barely reached the tops of her ears.

Her office was situated in a dilapidated, four story, 1920’s era building in South LA. It was an office building too old and poorly maintained to warrant such a costly improvement as refrigerated air. Therefore, to Laura, an office building in the proper condition to be cheap. ‘Cheap’ had been an requirement that had weighed heavily on the young woman’s decision to ultimately rent the place.

After all, she thought, I wouldn’t be able to afford the place if they had air conditioned it. So she didn’t consider her discomfort from the heat that important. It was just as well for it meant that Honey would wear less clothes!

What was important to Ms. Styles, however, was the name and title stenciled onto the opaque glass set in the office door: “Laura Styles, P.I.”

To Ms. Styles the fact that she could claim the title of “Private Investigator” was important. The moniker meant a great many things to her, some of them fiscal, others personal. But all were exciting and powerful to her. Her own business. Her own career. Independence, freedom, prosperity, of a sort. But Success none the less.

Another success, Laura thought as she watched her secretary flitter back and forth across the office, her short skirt flying, showing off her full, firm, luscious thighs, was finding Honey.

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