AN: Homage to 1979 Dracula and slap on the wrist of feminist "blame the weak anti-feminist women" theories from literary critics like Nina Auerbach.
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It was a dream. And yet...
She was laying in her back over the autumn leaves, her white lace gown covering her from throat to ankles. Something dark hovered above her, black like enormous bat - was it a cape? - and then young handsome man pressed against her, smiling.
She tried to push him away, but he was so heavy and strong, and then she felt sting of mild pain in her throat, just above the neckline.
His voice, smiling, a bit oily. "I despise women without blood and strength."
"I despise hypocrisy," she managed to say, because didn´t this figure force himself into her dreams and drain life out of her?
"Weak old maid, sexless prune," he mocked. "Let´s see can your family recognize you when you crawl out of the grave."
Then everything was red as blood.