This story was written for a request.

Eric, Pam and Herrick. PG-13. Life is vice. (Total crack, in more ways than one.)

E.B.P.

Contrary to the peppy modern saying, the customer was not always right.

Not even mostly right, was Eric's experience. This particular customer, a walking offence in Armani, was cutting it pretty close to fatally misguided just venturing an opinion. Eyeing the dusky red line on the bar top, suspicious, he drawled: 'I hope you're not expecting me to try that before you do.'

Eric thought: How would you like those shiny Italians loafers shoved down your oesophagus?

'Of course not,' he said, mild as a daisy. 'Would you?' The last to Pam, idling on a stool, who right away cut another neat line of the merchandise and took a hit. Touching a dainty finger to her left nostril, she passed the rolled bill to the Englishman, who hesitated, then followed her lead. A second later, Herrick's eyes were rolling back. His fangs fully extended, a soft oh crawled out of his lungs.

The unmistakable bouquet of vibrant magic. Eric inhaled deeply in sympathetic ecstasy.

Niall Brigant was calling the reddish powder Dust. As a street name among vampires, that wouldn't do, for obvious reasons. One thing to cater to the appetites of the undead in a manner not violating human law; quite another to put the fairy kind in danger by advertising the formula. Sookie would definitely disapprove.

Not that she would approve of her ex-lover and her great-grandfather dealing in fairy blood, and about to go into exports, either.

Watching Herrick and his second-in-command closely, he recited off the top of his head:

'Effects of E.B.P. may include, but are not limited to: intense arousal, increased strength, sensitivity to light, aural and/or visual hallucinations, rage, numbness, fever, euphoria...'

Herrick blinked rapidly. 'E.B.P.?' He was still short of breath, and the secondary effects hadn't even hit yet.

Pam, no novice with the drug, shot a surreptitious glare, two parts lust, one part pissed-off, at Eric.

He grinned, turned back to Herrick and explained: 'Erotic Blood Poetry. Elvira, one of our human and...more imaginative...staff members here, came up with the name.'

Only after Eric had made a few of his less terrible puns and Pam laughed at all of them. Call this payback.

Herrick just nodded like this made perfect sense.

Jumping up suddenly, Pam muttered: 'Excuse me, gentlemen. I find myself in need of less mixed company.' A stool was almost knocked over in her haste to leave.

Then it was just Eric and the Englishman.

Eric grabbed for his phone. 'Let me just call up Elvira.'

THE END

24 January 2009