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“elaing8”, please send an email to girls…@gmail.com to collect your $25.00 gift certificate.
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by Victoria Oldham
The vampire myth has been around as long as people could come up with stories about other people. And stories about women who have gone “bad” have been around for nearly as long, even making it into a book studied by people for the last two thousand years. Lilith, the first wife of Adam, refused to subjugate herself to him and became the first stealer of men’s souls through sex.
Since then, female vampires have been on the big screen, in comic books, between the sheets of erotic anthologies like this one and in our dreams and nightmares.
What is it that makes the combination of woman + vampire so enthralling? Is it the sexual taboo she can cross so easily, or the fusion of blood and sex? Is it her deceptive sensuality, the aspect of beauty hiding a deadly core? Or is it the idea of a woman, supposedly the pure, moralistic center of any culture, turning into something so beastly, so utterly outside her normative boundaries?
Whatever it is, it’s hot.
I love that my vampire characters can do anything they want to do. They can love, they can romance, they can kill or choose to bestow eternal life. They are power incarnate, and flesh and blood is their playground.
And I love that I can look at the women around me and see that power, that desire, and believe them capable of every sensual and sexual aspect available to them. When I write vampires (or any female character, really) I picture the woman who turns me on, who makes me hot and makes me want to fall into her arms, whatever the price. I want women who make me tremble with need and beg to be taken, whatever their terms.
After all, isn’t that what erotic is about? Reading about hot women (in this case) who make your knees weak and your heart race, who have that edge of the dangerous and exude sex so powerfully you’ll gladly give it up, and damn the consequences?