Vampire King of Ghana

The City of Montreal reminds me of home, for numerous reasons. Quebec is about as different from West Africa as can be, but with so many dark-skinned faces all around me, I feel at home. It's not easy being an African man in this world, and it's even harder to be an African blood sucker. I'm back in town after a long hiatus, and came home to the aftermath of a war between humans and Vampires. I've got to play nice with the Powers That Be, or else...

"Blood is only half of what a Vampire craves," I said, speaking to the tall, slender, blue-eyed, athletic and bespectacled, blonde-haired young woman sitting opposite me. Claire Fontaine looks at me, a look of pure curiosity on her lovely face. We are seated inside Dante's Hall, one of those ancient bars located in the Haitian-dominated north side of Montreal, Quebec. I feel at home here, surrounded by Haitians, Latinos, French Canadians, Arabs and others. This watering hole definitely suits me...

"Of course, you may not be human any longer but you are a sentient being, and thusly complex," Claire replied, as if she understood. I sighed, wishing I could make this mortal understand, then wondering why I bothered to meet with her in the first place. I've always been something of a wanderer, even in the underworld, this secret society formed by Vampires, werewolves, demons, monsters and other nonhumans. Just call me Mr. Elusive...

"Do you really believe so, Claire?" I asked casually, and Claire nodded. I could see that magna cum laude brain at work, and repressed a chuckle. Claire Fontaine studied psychology at McGill University, and came to my attention after being recruited into the top secret organization known as the Trackers. They eliminate those elements of the supernatural community which threaten mankind. Apparently, Claire took to killing monsters like a cat takes to hunting mice.

"Mr. Sarfo, I take my job very seriously, you are something of an anomaly among your species, you don't kill humans, and shun contact with all but a few select members of your own kind, you are peculiar and worthy of study," Claire replied, and I smiled, flashing my fangs. Claire blinked, a sure sign of nervousness in an otherwise unflappable demeanor, and I found it oddly reassuring.

"Alright, Miss Fontaine, shall we begin?" I asked, and Claire nodded, then set her purse on the table between us, the hidden camera rolling, recording everything. I paused for a moment, wondering how and where I should start with my story. It's kind of cliché, the whole Vampire-gets-interviewed-by-a-mortal thing. Tom Cruise made it popular a few decades ago, and I think I saw echoes of it in Wesley Snipes work, but it's not my style...

"Fire away, Mr. Sarfo," Claire Fontaine said, and her tone and demeanor were suddenly all businesslike. Not a problem for yours truly. I took a look around the bar, and a trio of trucker types walked in. One of them glanced our way, and I looked at him, and after a brief hesitation, he looked away. I knew what he saw, a well-dressed, twenty-something Black man sitting down at a table with an attractive White woman. What Western society fears the most...

"Alright, Miss Fontaine, I shall start at the beginning, I was born in 1877 in the City of Kumasi, Ghana," I began, and Claire nodded, silently urging me to continue. I closed my eyes, remembering the bygone days of my youth. I led a regular life in Ghana, which was under European colonial rule at the time. My country had endured hell at the hands of the Europeans, but I was largely sheltered from such hardships due to my family's wealth and relative isolation from the centers of power.

My parents, Amman and Khadija Sarfo were members of the Ghanaian Muslim community, and they and many others organized themselves into the Aborigines Rights Protections Agency. They did so to protest the fact that in Ghana, almost all the power rested in the hands of the British-appointed Governor, through his appointment of special representatives. For this reason, they were labeled enemies of the British Empire, and were forced into hiding.

While fleeing British-ruled Ghana, my family and I got lost in the West African wilderness and one night, we were set upon by a mysterious creature. What we thought was a wild animal turned out to be an ancient Vampire, one of the proto-Vampires that vanished from the world eons ago. The creature killed my parents, and although grievously injured, I managed to get away. I didn't know it at the time, but the creature's bite changed me...

"What have I become?" I lamented, as I awakened, three days later, in the darkened forest cavern where I'd taken refuge. When I tried to venture outside, into the light of day, I could not, for the sun pained me, and I felt weakened. I waited for dark, and then went out. I came across a strange little animal, a type of primate that we call a Bioko Allen's bush-baby, and chased after it.

Normally, most forest creatures are quick enough to get away from people, and even for seasoned hunters, primates are hard to catch. Somehow, though, I managed to catch the creature, and killed it by bashing it over the head with a large stone. I made a fire and tried to cook the meat, and it tasted foul to me. I felt drawn to the scent of the blood even as I butchered the beast, and it felt natural to slake my thirst by drinking it. I had no idea what I had become, but I was forever changed...

"How did you feel when you first tasted blood?" Claire asked, and I stared at her, silently cursing the insolent, attractive mortal for interrupting my train of thought. I took a sip of my Pepsi, and Claire looked at me with great curiosity. I hoped that she wasn't going to inquire about my drinking something other than blood. Vampires cannot process solid foods, but we like our liquids, from blood to water, from coke and Pepsis to hard liquor.

"Blood isn't tasty, or sweet, or bitter, it's simply what I must take as nourishment if I don't want to die for good," I replied, and Claire paused. I could see the wheels turning in that brain of hers. After wandering the planet earth for over a century, I've become quite the expert in reading people. It's not a special power, it simply comes from experience and observation.

"Please continue," Claire said, speaking after a long moment and I nodded, and did just that. I told her about my adventures, which took me from colonial Ghana to Southern Africa, in what would later become Swaziland, where I lived like a king among some of the most isolated tribes. When the twentieth century came, I found myself yearning to visit the world beyond Africa, and thus boarded a ship bound for the distant isles of the Caribbean.

I heard wonderful things about the Republic of Haiti, the first Black nation to gain independence after defeating the European colonial powers. Everywhere I looked, I saw nothing but European colonial rule, from Africa to South America, from North America to Europe itself. I had no desire to be an undead second-class citizen in a world that would be doubly set up against me. The idea of living among the proud, strong and independent people of Haiti appealed to me. I knew that I would fare well among such a people.

"I moved to the northern region of Haiti, near the City of Cap-Haitien, and it became my home, while I lived there, I only drank animal blood, and made myself a friend and ally of the locals," I stated, and Claire Fontaine looked at me as though I were an exotic specimen at the zoo. To the Trackers, I've always been an anomaly, and they've never understood me. It's not out of altruism that I don't feed on humans, it's simply because I prefer animal blood...

"You inspired a lot of the myths about the Loup Garou in Haiti and on the other nearby islands," Claire stated flatly and I smiled. In my self-imposed ruling on not drinking human blood, I would sometime venture into the Caribbean wilderness and feed on goats, rabbits, and other animals. I respected the people of Haiti too much to treat them like cattle. Other Vampires did not share my views, and we would sometimes go into conflict...

"I had to feed on the local wildlife, and when I couldn't, I bought blood from local butcheries, and later, clinics and the like, my steadfast refusal to kill humans inconvenienced me many times, but I never broke my word," I replied, and Claire, who'd been keeping tabs on me like a good Tracker, seemed fascinated. I must seem like such a strange creature to her, I thought to myself.

"As far as we know, this is true, it's the only reason why I'm here, Mr. Sarfo, my fellow Trackers and I kill blood suckers and other nonhumans, you're a curiosity to us, a supposedly civilized vampire," Claire said, and I looked at her blouse, and stylish pantsuit, and grinned. I could smell the silver on the bullets in the chamber of her revolver, and on the knife which she kept tucked in her stylish Black leather boots. The lady did come prepared...

"Claire, my friends, and acquaintances call me Jaffer," I said casually, and I sniffed, as if I were a breather. I inhaled Claire's scent, and smiled, and she looked at me with alarm. A woman who spends her time studying vampires, in order to contain or destroy them, must learn a lot about them or she's toast. I was inhaling Claire's scent, for it was a most pleasant one. The natural womanly smell that modern women hide away under perfumes, deodorants, and the like. Fools, such fools...

"Mr. Sarfo, I know of your reputation, you like to seduce men and women, and while I have nothing against bisexuals, I don't find you particularly attractive, just a curiosity, my superiors saw you save a person's life the other day, hence why we spare you, until you give us cause to do otherwise," Claire said, and I sensed great anger in her. I leaned closer, fearlessly, my face now inches from hers...

"If that's true, Claire, why do I make you so nervous?" I asked, and when Claire blinked in shock, then lashed out with her hand, I caught it firmly but gently. Claire glared at me angrily, and I smiled and gently kissed her hand. When I let go of her hand, she reached for her weapon, but I held my hands up in mock surrender. What can I say? I like to flirt with danger.

It's a bad habit that I've acquired, I'm afraid. I like to seduce dangerous mortals and bring them to my bed. One time, during the summer of 1951, I was hanging out in the City of Havana, Cuba, looking for fun. On a steamy night, I met this tall, handsome and homophobic man named Lazaro Dos Santos. He was married and had two sons, but he had a particular fixation on the local queers, whom he liked to beat up. I found Lazaro fascinating, and approached him at a bar. After getting Lazaro quite drunk, I brought him to my bed.

"I'm not a fag, you know, not one of those maricones, I just like some manly fun from time to time," Lazaro said to me, as we got undressed. I nodded understandingly, and then shut up the sexy Latino by kissing him, and then I fed him some dick. For a man who spends so much of his free time howling about how gays and lesbians are the blight of Cuban society, Lazaro sucked dick real good...

"Hmm, you do this so well," I said encouragingly to Lazaro as the burly Cubano got on his knees and sucked my thick dark dick. I hadn't had my dick sucked properly by anyone in quite some time, and Lazaro the closet homosexual was just what the doctor ordered. After Lazaro finished polishing my fuck stick, I bent him over and stuffed him like a thanksgiving turkey. I loved watching my thick dark dick get swallowed by his ass.

"Oh yes, my handsome African Papi, give me that thick dark snake," Lazaro squealed like a bitch as I fucked him, and I had a blast. I think we both did. I guess it's true what they say about homophobic males, they're usually closet cases who crave dick yet hate other men for being openly enjoying what they can't accept about themselves. After doing the bump and grind for a few hours, Lazaro and I parted ways. I never saw the lout again, and as far as I'm concerned, it's good riddance.

"Mr. Sarfo, alright, that's enough, this interview is over," Claire said icily, her frosty voice snatching me out of my little trip down memory lane. I looked at her, this beautiful, dangerous woman who had probably killed numerous vampires, members of my species, and I found her immensely desirable. I'm an adventurer, that's my whole shtick. I sensed a lot of passion and danger underneath the lady's businesslike exterior, and I was determined to get at her...

"My apologies, madam, you came here in good faith, and I conducted myself like a lout, I'm sorry," I said sincerely, and Claire looked at me. Other male patrons looked at us, and I kept my eyes focused on Claire rather than look at them. Claire sighed, and then nodded. I smiled gently, in a manner I hoped was nonthreatening, and although I didn't breathe any longer, I exhaled in relief as she opted to stay.

"Alright, Mr. Sarfo, continue with your tale," Claire said, and I told her about my adventures in places like Trinidad, Saint Lucia and the other isles of the Caribbean. The African diaspora in the Caribbean is unique, and beautiful. They're less rigidly traditional when compared to my fellow West Africans and they're more bon vivant than anything else. I found them utterly fascinating, and enjoyed taking many to my bed, female and male. I didn't discriminate in that regard...

"The most amazing woman I've ever met was Marie Soleil Barrow," I said, and Claire looked at me, a sparkle of interest showing in those blue eyes. I smiled, and closed my eyes, remembering how I met the lovely Marie Soleil on the island of Barbados. Tall and curvy, with light brown skin, a deliciously round rump, thick legs and the most sensual lips ever, Marie Soleil looked like a goddess to me. We met during a stormy night in the summer of 1977. I spotted the Afro-sporting beauty in Saint James, Barbados, and followed her around like a puppy. I couldn't help myself, you see...

"What was so special about her?" Claire asked, and I opened my eyes, and licked my lips before answering. From Claire's words and tone of voice, I could sense that she was interested, and more than a little bit annoyed. Women get that way whenever a male they know shows interest in another woman, even if things between them are strictly platonic. It's weird, but a feature of their species, I guess...

"Hmm, Marie Soleil wasn't just sexy, with a big round ass, she had the most amazing pussy I ever tasted," I said, as casually as though I were discussing the weather, and I saw a somber look pass across Claire's face. I sighed happily, like a man remembering a sumptuous meal, and I licked my lips in a most suggestive manner. The effect on Claire was immediate...and predictable.

Alright, at this point, I embellished things a bit, for Claire's benefit. Judging by the female Tracker's interest in my love life, I proceeded to tell her about all the fun, wicked and nasty things that I did with Marie Soleil. Truth be told, the curvaceous Barbadian beauty, who was half Black and half White, was just one of my many conquests during my stay on that particular island.

"I still miss that big Barbadian ass," I said, and as I spoke to Claire, who shifted on her seat opposite me and looked uncomfortable. Smiling, I mercilessly continued, for Claire's discomfort was sweet nectar to me. I remembered hooking up with Marie Soleil in the laundry room of the hotel where I was staying. There was something so exciting about having sex like this, the danger of getting caught adding an extra thrill to the whole thing. I sat Marie Soleil on a table, and proceeded to worship at her altar...

"Hmm, put that magic tongue to good use, my African brother," Marie Soleil said, and I looked at the gorgeous, sweaty, sinfully sexy gal who sat on the table, stark naked, her breasts swaying this way and that, her thick thighs spread invitingly. I nodded, and began sucking on her toes and caressing her feet, and then I traveled upward. I buried my face between Marie Soleil's thighs, and inhaled her womanly scent before sliding my tongue into her wet, hairy pussy...

"Marie Soleil, you are amazing," I paused to say, right before I began sucking on her clit and slid my fingers into her pussy. Decades spent making love to hard-bodied, masculine men and voluptuous, sensual women taught me a lot of things about the countless ways of pleasuring the human body. I took my sweet time as I munched on Marie Soleil's pussy, and worked my magic on her, causing her to moan and squirm in delight...

Later that night, I bent Marie Soleil over a nearby bench, and had my way with her. The voluptuous Barbadian beauty gave as good as she got, grinding her big ass against my groin as I slammed my dick into her. Marie Soleil howled like a banshee, uttering obscenities that would make a sailor blush, and I fucked her brains out. My fellow undead and I are thought to be unfeeling killing machines, and that's not true. We are about more than just craving blood. I for one enjoy the pleasures of the flesh as much as any mortal, if not more...

"Alright, enough, you're a horny bastard, I get it, sheesh, you're like a Frat guy with fangs," Claire Fontaine said, and she looked at me, a coy smile on her face. I smiled innocently and leaned back on my chair. When Claire reached for my hand and laid hers on top of mine, her naturally warm flesh against my room-temperature flesh, I did not react. I affected a look of mild surprise, but did not say anything. The ball was in her court, after all...

"Mademoiselle Claire, I am over a century old, actually, as of 2018, I'm one hundred and forty one years old, although I appear to be no older than twenty five, and I'll look that way, young, healthy and strong, until I get killed, or the stars turn cold, whichever one happens first, yet I live every day like it is my last," I said, looking right into Claire Fontaine's blue eyes. I wanted her to get off her damn pedestal, this pretense of morality that so many mortals cling to...

"You're an enigma, Mr. Sarfo, but a fun one, I must admit," Claire said, and for some reason, she felt compelled to take off her glasses. I looked at her and smiled, and truth be told, she looked good with or without the specs. Claire's hand was still on mine, and I looked at it, and nodded. Without another word, the lady rose, and headed to the washroom. When Claire came back, there was something different about her, and I saw a dangerous light in her eyes...

"Oh my," I said, and I nodded approvingly as Claire strutted toward me, sexy and confident. I smiled and rose to greet her, and that's when she grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and kissed me. I kissed her back, hesitantly, this beautiful and dangerous woman who was trained to hunt and kill my kind, the vampires of the world. We embraced like this, not caring about the mortals around us, who stared because our skin tones didn't match...

"Shut up and follow me," Claire said, when we, or I guess, she, came up for air. I looked into her eyes and saw the promise of danger, and sex, and something else. Her smell changed, and as a super predator, I picked up on it. For I am a vampire, a creature designed to hunt. Claire was horny, and so was I. We left Dante's Hall with her arm around my waist and my hand on her ass. I thought we'd be heading to her place, but we didn't make it past the parking lot...

"You're pure fire," I said to Claire, as I pressed her against the wall, right by the dumpster at the end of the parking lot. She kissed me, and I caressed her breasts through her blouse. Claire hissed like a serpent, and then she bit me. This was unexpected, and ironic. I pulled her to me, and lifted her before placing her on the hood of a nearby car. Superhuman strength had its uses, I thought as I beheld the dangerous beauty before me.