The colour of her blood was the least of my worries - it was the fact she wanted me to drink the stuff that made me squirm.

"Go on," she murmured. "It's good for you." Her fingers reached out across the table, sliding the glass towards me.

I took a breath and held it for a moment, hoping the half-bucket of vomit pushing its way up my throat would just stay put for while. "Yeah, I know that, but..."

"Go on Ritchie..." She let out a low moan in that slightly sing-song way of hers, as if even an expression of petulance couldn't pass her lips without picking up a taste of that irresistible animal desire.

"We should have some more wine." I pushed the chair back, making for the fridge. "There's still two bottles there. See?" I opened the door, showing off the Australian whites.

She shook her head. "How about I go first?"

My hand on the fridge door, I watched as she slid those tantalisingly slender fingers around the stem of the glass, lifted it to her lips and began to drink. Whether deliberate or not, the trickle of crimson that ran down the side of her mouth, only served to generate further movement in my stomach.

"I'm just going to the...er..." I waved a hand in the vague direction of the toilet. "Back in a minute."

Closing the door, I sank down onto the side of the bath. What the hell was I thinking of? The woman was gorgeous, sure, especially in that saucy vampire outfit, but come on, man, she's clearly off her fucking head.
I could hear Jimmy's voice telling me this one was trouble, that she was one of those evil women they write classic rock songs about, but as always, I thought I knew best. Even after the other night in the pub when he'd called her a slag and she'd followed him outside to give him a piece of her mind, even then I thought he was being melodramatic. Then again, he did say she'd get me to do crazy shit, like running naked down the street, breaking into the off-licence, or drinking blood...

I splashed water on my face and gave myself a good staring at in the mirror. Come on, be sensible. I nodded to myself. Yeah, Jimmy was right, there was only one thing for it - I'd go in there and tell her to make like a tree and leave.

But of course I didn't do that, because when I went back into the kitchen she was sitting on the table wearing nothing but a smile, and that didn't cover much.

"Your turn." She held out the glass, thoughtfully refilled.

I considered my options. What the hell - it obviously wasn't real blood anyway. I took the glass and drank it down, surprised at the cool saltiness. Then I hesitated, holding onto the empty vessel, waiting for the lurch in my guts.

"See?" She grinned. "Let's have some more." Reaching for the bottle, she poured me another one, and as she tipped it up, I caught sight of the label.

"Is that the same one?"

A sly smile crept across her face. "Same one? No, Ritchie  - this one's vintage. Virgin's blood. The one you've just had was fresh. Relatively."

I sat down and swallowed hard. "Fresh?"

"Yes." She shrugged. "I did warn your friend not to badmouth me, but he wouldn't listen." She reached into her bag. "There's another six bottles here..."