Birthright ~ (LGBT-Fantasy-Vampire)

Chapter 12 ~ Restoration

"WE have the most FABULOUS idea, my beautiful Sire!" announces Tripp, whilst I am in the background waving my arms about in a criss-crossing manner coupled and an index finger making a cutting motion across my neck to indicate a resounding NO to the idea being espoused by Tripp's lips.

Before Tripp finishes his sentence, Stroud interrupts to give away a spoiler on his partner's notion, "I get a sneaking suspicion that Tripp is about to suggest we all visit SEX Underground, Christopher. And from the look on Daniel's face and his arms waving about, Tripp has miserably attempted to rally his support."

"He's just being shy. Once he's there, I KNOW he'd enjoy it!" Tripp claims.

"Public sex eh? Hmm.. I've heard of such places, but never frequented. In my time, they were known as brothels or bordellos," quipped Christopher.

"Oh no. You don't PAY for sex at these places. You participate at your own discretion. There is of course a membership fee designed to cover maintenance. If you wish to drink, there is a limit of what you may consume, so as to protect the safety of the clientele," informs Stroud. 

"And they do make a to-die-for Absinthe drink. They serve high quality, distilled natural verte' Suisse and some sweeter Spanish Absentas, and the Bohemian Absinthes to warm the throat with its fire," Tripp offers happily.

I quiz, "Isn't that the shit that made the writers, poets, artists, bourgeoisie and working class crazy?"

Christopher intercepts, "That was primarily religious zealot rhetoric. There never has been any conclusive evidence that properly prepared, traditional and historic absinthe made a person have more hallucinations or ill-effects compared to the consumption of any other alcohol. People died in the streets from alcohol poisoning long before absinthe came into existence. And no one took note that all classes regularly mixed opium with alcoholic drinks."

"You are well-versed on the topic I see, Christopher," Stroud commends.

Christopher reminisces, "I'm knowledgeable of particular time periods, while others I tried to repress altogether."

"I'd like to try it just once to see what it tastes like," I ponder aloud.

"Well, no one does it like the Underground anymore. Very reminiscent of Cafe Slavia. They bring out the silver slotted spoons, and the ice water fountain with multi-spigots so that everyone seated can louche their glasses while watching the sexcapades," informs Stroud.

"Speaking of which, let's GO!" Tripp excitedly renews the topic.

"I don't know. Having the propensity to watch is okay I guess, as long as no one else really watches me," I conjecture.

"Oh hush it! You're a voyeur and want to watch. Admit it!" squeals Tripp.

"I'm okay with porn as long as it doesn't replace the intimacy between two individuals. There's a point when sex becomes just another addiction, another task to be completed and doesn't embody a special essence. I believe when two people share those moments, something passes between them, not just physically, but spiritually puts an imprint on the other's soul. And when a person has sex with many others, they transfer their essence to the person with whom they're having sex," I reason.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy if you have a soul, but three out of the four at this table don't have one," Tripp flippantly points out.