Alexy wiped down the bar waiting for dark. He was surprised when the pale beauty in white swirled in with a flourish. She had startled him as much as the last rays of sunlight.
He was enchanted.
“Ahm, a bit parched,” Sweet Sherry whispered huskily as she viewed the Blood Bank menu.
“A tasting — You ‘vish?” Alexy stuttered as he awkwardly set out the warming snifters. “Dis! ‘Vee have a ’72 Italian –“
Sherry took his pale hand raising it to her red lips,
“No, Lover — “ she said. He felt the thrall.
“You’re more my type.”