I didn’t notice anything particularly strange the first time I met her. I happened to be at a college party in the early hours of morning, drinking and having a good time, when the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen (in person anyways) walked up to me on the dance floor and started grinding on me. Her beauty overwhelmed me – tall, long legs, rustic colored hair. She had a certain mysterious air, captivating my desire.
I never had too much trouble with women, but she took beauty to a whole new level, exceeding all the girls I’d ever been with. I felt like she was a little out of my league, but she seemed into me. That was fine by me, and I wasn’t going to complain.
After the song was over, I introduced myself. “Hey, I’m Nate. Can I get you something to drink?
She smiled. “Hello, Nate. I’m Rosaline. Yes, that vould be quite good.”
I noticed a strong accent, which I thought was Slavic, in her voice. “Where you from?” I asked her, as I led her to get a drink.
“Romania. Just moved here with parents.”
“Ah. I see
Her voice was so attractive and sexy. I’d never dated a foreigner before, and it was something of a fantasy of mine. At the end of the night, I asked for her number, and she gave it to me, along with her beautiful smile. I left her with a kiss and headed back to my dorm room.
Rosaline and I hung out quite a bit those next three weeks, but things began to take a bizarre twist. For one thing, she said she was in college, but I’d never seen her on campus and neither had any of my friends. Whenever I asked her for details about her life or past, her answers would be vague. Rosaline also didn’t seem to have any friends or at least none in America. I could see how it would be difficult to meet people in a completely new environment, but with her looks, she should have attracted someone by now. The strangest thing about her, however, was the weird skin disease she had. She told me she wasn’t able to ever to go out during the day, or she’d break out in hives or some type of weird rash.
But aside from all the strange things about her, Rosaline did have one thing going for her – she was smoking hot. And in my book, that made up for all the weirdness. One night we were up late talking on the phone. “Nate, told parents about you. They say they vant to meet you. Can you come over for dinner?”
The dreaded dinner date to meet the parents… of course no one likes it, but it’s something we all got to do. I agreed and was supposed to be at her parents’ place by seven o’clock the next evening.
I took extra time preparing myself, making sure that I’d make a good impression. Rosaline was a keeper, and I didn’t want to blow my chance. When I pulled up at the house, I was surprised at how classy it was. I wasn’t expecting them to be so well off, but whatever they were doing, it must have been working because their house was huge. It was a very old house, but still elegant; yet, at the same time had a spooky aura about it.
I knocked at the front door. Rosaline answered. “Vel, hello Nate. Just vondering vhen you’d be here. Come…come… I’ll introduce you to my parents. Varn you vo’, they’re little strange. Not used to America yet.”
I hardly heard a word she said. She was wearing a low-cut dress, and her hair was neatly done. I’d never seen her look so good.
Rosaline led me down the hall, past a whole wall full of family photos from Romania. I couldn’t believe the similarities between her family and her relatives. There were black and white photos from the old country, and if I didn’t know better, they looked identical to Rosaline and her family.
Her parents were already sitting at the dinner table. They both had jet black hair and the palest complexions I’d ever seen.
“Vel, how do you do?” her father asked me, shaking my hand.
“Good, nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting me over. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Our pleasure.”
There was a stiffness in the air I couldn’t quite shake. Rosaline and her family made eye contact with each other, smiling like there was some inside joke I was in the dark about.
The strange thing I noticed was that the silverware and plates were set out, but there was no food on the table. I assumed it was just finishing up in the oven, but I didn’t smell anything cooking either. There was an awkward silence covering the table, so I broke it.
“So what’s for dinner?” I asked.
The family members all grinned, giving each other peculiar looks. “Vel, I’m glad you asked,” Rosaline’s father said. ” A special dish – family recipe from Romania. But it’s been awhile since ve have had it ourselves. It’s our favorite.”
I tried to act interested and sympathetic to their heritage. “Oh, that sounds great. I’m excited to have something from Romania. Never had anything from there before, but Rosaline has told me all about it. So what’s it called?”
“Fresh blood,” I heard Rosaline’s father say just before they pounced from their chairs and sucked the life out of me.
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