Fangtasia Stories: The Tiny Red Bikini Briefs of Doom

Set just before Dead to the World

Eric walked into Fangtasia and bypassed his office, and carried straight on into the bar. He heard music pumping, and they were not even open yet. He could feel Pam's presence, and went to investigate.

"A little bit of Rita's all I need, a little bit of Tina's what I see, a little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long..."

Pam was standing in front of the bar, which had a lot of papers on it, and she was singing along to Mambo Number 5. She was also doing some booty shaking, and a little side to side arm movement dance, like she was shaking some maracas.

Eric threw his head back with laughter.

"Ha! Work it, Pam."

"Eric!" She quickly twirled around and scowled at him, before moving with super-fast speed to switch off the music.

"You did not feel my presence, or realize I was here? Did I teach you nothing? You should be more careful, I could've snuck up and staked you. You were too distracted with your little dance." Eric smiled and mimicked her moves.

"I locked the door. Why are you here early?" Pam asked, crossly.

"Can I not come to work early? Don't get all defensive, just because you are all embarrassed about me catching you busting out your moves."

"I am not embarrassed."

"What are all those?" Eric nodded to the papers, before walking around the back of the bar to pick out a bottle of blood from the fridge. "You're not bombarding Abby with letters again are you?"

"Training notes. I am considering doing some customer service training with the staff."

Eric popped the bottle into the microwave before he turned back to Pam and leaned on the bar.

"Customer service? Is it not the customers who usually service us?"

Pam rolled her eyes. If Eric had seen Pam roll those eyes once, he'd seen it a million times.

"Running a successful business is all about pleasing the customer."

"What? Running a successful business is about making money, Pam. Our customers come here for the experience, to escape their dull little lives, and to ogle me, this is what pleases them."

"Well, I think some of our staff could do with a few pointers, that's all. We have had a lot of injuries lately, and sooner or later we're going to get caught and have a nasty legal battle on our hands."

"That's what we do here," Eric said. "That is what you do all the time. For fun. This is what glamoring is for. The customers do not come here to be treated well. This is a vampire bar. We're not supposed to be all 'yes, I am a thousand year old vampire, thank you for staring at my ass, have a nice day' and 'oh, I'm sorry, did I just drain you to within an inch of your life? Please accept these complimentary jello shots'. Where's the fun in that, Pam?"

"I don't mean that we stop having fun, and start being polite to the sniveling humans. I just think that it wouldn't hurt to cut down on some of the unnecessary violence. We get too many undercover cops in here."

"Whatever. If it pleases you. By the way, where did you rush off to last night?"

"I told you I was leaving early. I had a date."

Eric raised an eyebrow.

"You had a date? With who?"

"No one you know."

"Was it that Sunday school teacher, with the nice legs, and the potty mouth?"

"No. I forgot about her. I should definitely call her up."

The microwave pinged and Eric retrieved his blood. He shook it before taking a swig. He looked at the bottle.

"This is really, really bad."

"Why do you bother to drink it, then? It's not like you have to drink that much anyway, and you can sip on the customers later. Are you trying to mainstream like Billbore Baggins?"

"No, of course not," Eric said, defensively. "I am just... thirsty."

Suddenly, Chow strode in. He was holding the arm of a petite brunette, with heavily made up eyes and a penchant for black PVC, netting, and studded leather accessories. Typical fang banger fodder.

Chow bowed slightly before speaking.

"Sheriff, Cindy here has some information I think you might be interested to know."

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"So, just let me get this straight one more time."

Eric was sitting in the middle of the bar, and Pam and Chow were standing close by. Cindy, who had a particular thing for Chow, was sitting in front of Eric, looking a little scared.

"A coven of witches has arrived in Shreveport? Am I getting this right?"

"Yes."

"I see. And you know this because..." Eric nodded, urging Cindy to explain.

"My sister's a Wiccan. She heard about them, and she's afraid of them. Apparently, they're crazy, and more powerful than anything my sister ever heard of before. We were in Shreveport, the other day, shopping at DSW. There was a sale on..."

"A sale?" Pam asked. "When did that start?"

"I think maybe, er..."

"It does not matter," Eric urged. "Just get on with it."

"Well, me and my sister, we saw this head witch, and her brother. My sister pointed them out to me. They're quite noticeable."

"What was she buying?" Pam asked.

"Strappy sandals. I think they were gold."

"Hmm. Like the flat, gladiator type, or heeled?"

Eric half turned in Pam's direction. "Will you shut up about the shoes?" he snapped, before turning back to Cindy. "What then?"

"Well, I saw her again, last night, in that fake vamp bar, Donors." Eric shook his head and Pam tutted. "I overheard her talking about how she was going to be taking over Fangtasia, what she'd do with the décor, how she'd get rid of all the tacky posters."

Eric stared at her angrily, taking offense. The posters were not tacky. They were kitsch. Big difference.

"And?"

"And so I mentioned it to Chow. I like the bar as it is, and I don't want it to be taken over by witches. I like things just as they are."

She smiled up at Chow lovingly, and he nodded his appreciation.

"And this is all?" Eric asked firmly.

"Yes."

Eric looked at Chow, who he presumed had glamored all the information out of the young fang banger earlier.

"That is all," Chow confirmed.

"I appreciate you sharing this information, Cindy."

She smiled and looked pleased with herself. She guessed she might get some special reward from Chow later, since she'd been so good. Chow took her by the arm and escorted her out.

"So, what do you think?" Pam asked Eric.

"I think perhaps whatever advice Abby offered worked for him. Chow's definitely getting a piece of that this evening."

"Hmm. Unless I make a move on her. And the witchy news?"

"Witches are trouble, and I hate them. They are reckless, and they stink of patchouli. I do not like the sound of this."

"Me neither."

"See what you can find out, Pam. Let's try and stay one step ahead."

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Later that evening, Pam was sitting in the accountant's office, doing some research on her computer. She had turned up very little information on this new coven, and was getting frustrated. She was just considering going out into the bar, when there was a knock at the back door, and she got up to go answer it.

She opened the door, and a pair of rather tall weres, one male and one female, were standing in front of her.

"Staff only," she snapped. "You need to go around the front."

Pam went to close the door again, but the female held it open. She was strong.

"No, I don't think so. I don't do lines. I'm here to speak with your master."

Pam did not like to be spoken to this way, least of all by weres. She resisted the urge to rip off her head.

"Call and make an appointment."

Pam pushed at the door again, but some unseen power was keeping it open. Neither of the weres were even touching it.

"I want to see him now."

When she spoke that final word, her voice went all deep and echoey, like something out of a bad horror movie. Pam pulled a confused face, poked her head further out the door and glanced around, checking for some kind of microphone or other equipment.

"Did that noise really just come out of you?"

"Yes." Again with the Exorcist voice.

A distinctly magical smell drifted under Pam's nose. She knew it wasn't the Glade plug-in she'd installed recently. That was more pine-based, this smell was much more spicy. Pam brought her hand to her face and wafted a little.

"Just what do you need to speak with my master about?"

"Oh, just a few business matters," the female said, cheerfully and in a more regular voice. "I shouldn't take up too much of his time."

Pam sighed internally. This was bad news, she could sense it.

"And you are?"

"Hallow."

Pam looked confused.

"Hello."

"No, Hallow," the witch pressed.

"Yes. Hallo to you too." Pam raised her voice this time, speaking each word clearly. "What is your name?"

"Hallow."

Oh great, Pam thought. A comedian, as well. Fucking witches. Fucking weres. Laugh a minute.

"Look, whatever. I will see if he will receive you. Follow me."

Pam knocked on Eric's office door once.

"Come."

Eric had already heard their little exchange, and looked up from his paperwork. He looked over the two weres, both tall, muscular, dark-haired, and dressed in almost identical outfits of black turtle-neck sweaters and slacks. There was something else about them. The unmistakable smell of magic. Plus they were both butt ugly.

"This is, um, Hello, and," Pam gestured to the male, and shrugged. Goodbye? "They insisted on meeting with you."

Eric looked at them, his gaze calm and steely.

"I am Hallow. This is my brother, Mark. I realize making an appointment would have been more polite, but I'm keen to get this over with as soon as possible. I hope you understand."

She smiled at him in a rather disconcerting way. Partially flirty, partially maniacal. Eric thought he recognized her from somewhere, like perhaps he'd seen her in the bar.

"I am Eric Northman, the owner of this bar. What is this very urgent matter you need to speak with me about?"

Hallow leaned forward in her chair, and cleared her throat.

"I hear that you are quite successful, powerful, wealthy. I hear other, very interesting things about you, too, which I'm keen to know more about. You have quite a reputation." She gave him that weird flirtatious smile again, and batted her eyelids a little, but Eric did not respond. "I'll cut to the chase, Mr Northman. I am the head witch of a very powerful coven. I want your bar, and I want a large share in all your businesses. If I don't get what I want, I will ruin you."

She sat back in her chair again, grinning. She looked to her brother, and he grinned back and gave her a wink.

Eric looked at them both and considered his response for some time before speaking.

"Are you two a couple of mentalists?"

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As soon as the two were-witches had finally left, reluctantly and without anything they came for, Pam collapsed into the chair in front of Eric.

"Well, that went well."

"Who the fuck do they think they are?" Eric spat. "Coming into my bar, telling me they're taking a percentage of my profits, and threatening me. Me! I'm almost speechless."

"Well you heard what she said. They will cause all kinds of trouble for us if we do not comply. We will be ruined." Pam flung her hands up in despair. "Everything we have worked for."

"Oh stop being such a whiny bitch, Pam. They are idiot were-witches. I just need some time to think about this."

"She finds you attractive, she was eye-fucking you the whole time they were here. Perhaps you could seduce her, and manipulate her into changing her mind."

"What? And then when I kick her out of bed and dump her hairy were-ass she'll be fine about that, do you think? She'll move on, without any form of revenge, after she has had a taste of what the Northman has to offer? Not a good idea, Pamela."

"Well then what do we do? Perhaps if you just flirt with her a little, treat her nice, buy her some," she waved a hand, "oh, I don't know, brooms or rats or whatever one buys a witch. Go to second base. Keep her keen for a while, and in the meantime we find a way to get rid of them."

Eric shook his head.

"She looks like an ugly man. Her brother with the perm and the porno tache might even be slightly sexier, and more feminine."

"They are quite a pair of weirdos."

"I don't think I could manage getting to first base with her, let alone second. You do it."

"I wasn't the one she was drooling over."

"You could seduce her brother, then. Porno-tache were."

"No chance."

"This is for the greater good of the bar, and our business. As your maker I could command you to do it."

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

Eric raised an eyebrow.

"The perm, Eric." Pam pleaded with her eyes.

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair.

"We will save the seduction to use as a last resort. I need to think. Go home, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't make me hump perm-tache-boy."

"Home."

"Did you see how high he wore the waistband of his slacks? And his cheap shoes?" Her lip quivered slightly. "He smelled like pigs and mold."

"I will think of something. Neither of us will need to screw freaky were-witches. Go to your rest."

Pam hesitated at the door, her eyes filled with concern. Then she turned and closed it behind her.

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When Pam got to the bar the next day, there was a young were-witch waiting at the back door. Great.

"Can I help you?" Fling you off a cliff? Rip off an arm and slap you around the face with it? Dress you in a decent outfit?

"Hallow sent me. I'm here to deliver a message to Eric Northman. My mistress has a compromise."

Pam gave her a cool stare. "Wait here."

She unlocked the door and strode down the corridor, and knocked on the door to Eric's office.

"Yes."

Pam stepped in and closed the door behind her.

"One of the witches is here. She wants to speak with you, about Hallow's terms."

Eric growled.

"Bring her in," Pam turned, "and Pam."

"Yes?"

"Where is Bobby? My laundry hasn't been done for weeks, and I'm almost out of underwear."

"He is on vacation, you know this."

"He's been gone for too long."

Pam wondered what sort of state Eric's house might be in.

"The cleaners have still been coming by, haven't they?"

"Yes, but no one has picked up my laundry, Pam." He was very unhappy.

"Well, I'll get someone to do it. Don't panic."

"And my underwear is depleting, it's like someone is taking it. Even with the lack of laundry, I've noticed. It just disappears."

"Hm-mm."

"I am down to the dregs." He counted them on his fingers. "All that is left is those novelty thongs you bought me for a joke, the boxers with the cartoon characters, some day-glo patterned bathing trunks, and very, very small, tight bikini briefs. Today I had to wear that red pair I wore when we had that Baywatch party at your house."

Pam smirked.

"You made a fantastic Hoff."

"Fuck the Hoff. Where is my underwear, Pam?"

"Can you not go commando?"

Eric sighed and looked irritated. "Around the house and on particular occasions this is perfectly appropriate, and yes, I certainly enjoy the freedom and comfort of swinging freely. But you know I need the support. Things get out of hand down there," he pointed at the unruly parts with both fingers. "Quite easily."

"Who would be taking them? And how?"

"I have no clue. It may be a serious security breach. I'm thinking of installing some of those tiny hidden cameras."

"I doubt this is necessary. Has anything else been taken?"

Eric shook his head.

"Well then it does not make sense. Perhaps you forget to put them back on on your way out of whichever bedroom you are frequenting on any given night."

"I have accounted for such losses. Do you think it's the cleaners? My underwear, Pam."

"We will get to the bottom of it." Pam smirked. "The bottom. Bottom, underpants." Eric did not respond. "OK, admittedly, it wasn't that good. I will buy more, and we will sniff out your underwear thief." Pam snickered again. "Sniff, underwear. Sniff your underwear."

Eric sighed, and shook his head.

"This is serious, Pamela."

"Oh, for goodness sake, anyone would think you'd had a collection of priceless jewels stolen. Now, can you speak with this witch?"

"Send her in. Chow."

Pam went to retrieve the young witch, and Chow came into the office. A little extra intimidating vamp-muscle wouldn't do any harm. The witch entered, sat in front of him, introduced herself as Serpentine, and relayed Hallow's message.

"Seven nights, entertaining my mistress, and she will greatly reduce the amount she intended to take from you."

Chow looked to Pam with some concern. He knew very well the dangers posed by witches. Eric, on the other hand, could barely contain his anger.

"I don't have sex with witches, or weres." Telepaths. He had sex with telepaths.

"Well, perhaps in this case you would make an exception?"

"I might be one of the greatest lovers to ever grace the Earth, but even I would find it difficult to get hard for that sorry hag."

Pam gasped. Eric ignored the sound and continued.

"Even if she were to wear a bag over her head, and I watched some porn or something at the same time, honestly," Eric shook his head, "I don't think I could get it up for one go, let alone seven nights. And there is absolutely no chance of me finding alternative ways to pleasure her."

"You will be very sorry if you turn down my mistress' demands. She is being very lenient and honoring you by offering this compromise."

Eric scoffed, and his anger flared. What did these witches know of honor?

"There is absolutely no way I am fucking that ugly mare," Eric responded. Pam flinched and lifted her hand slightly, and he could tell she was trying to get him to stop. Eric was aware he was being incredibly insulting, and that it was potentially dangerous, given the reputation of witches, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was not going to be blackmailed by nasty little were-witches. "I am no whore, and even if I were, I would not lower myself by accepting dirty witch custom."

The young witch's eyes widened in anger, and she gritted her teeth.

"This is your final answer?"

Eric smiled slightly. "Yes." He leaned forward, and stared at her with a lethal expression. "I am Eric Northman. I am not to be trifled with, or bargained with, or played with. If you come here again, or try anything foolish, I will fuck your little coven up, and take great pleasure in tearing each and every one of you limb from limb. Now, get the fuck out of my bar."

She merely smiled.

"Eric, do you think we should talk about this first?" Pam asked.

"Not really, no."

She looked to Chow, urging him to say something.

"Perhaps we should consider bargaining further?" Chow offered. "A compromise? Three days, instead of seven? Pam, maybe you could do a couple? Rotate?"

Pam glared at him, and then turned her attention back to Eric, who was merely staring at them both very coolly.

"No kissing?" she offered.

"There will be no bargaining," he shouted, and brought his fist down on his desk with such force that he left a visible dent in the wood. "You will go back to your sorry little coven, and deliver my message. You will never, ever cross my path again. I hope I have made myself quite clear."

Pam and Chow looked at each other, trying desperately to think of some sort of alternative plan. Eric rose from his seat and went over to his closet.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind," he kicked off his boots and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, before continuing. "I have a bar to manage and it is due to be open in five minutes. It is New Years Eve, in case you haven't noticed, which is a particularly busy night. I have no more time to waste on witches." He stepped forward and leaned over her, and she smiled as her eyes took in all of his half-naked glory. "There's the door. Get. The fuck. Out."

The young witch grinned up at him. "You vamps are the dumbest sons of bitches I ever knew."

She stood and reached into her jacket, her movement swift. Chow moved in a blur, and had her around the neck in the next instant. And then Eric was gone. Chow let go of the now dead witch, and her limp body fell to the floor with a thud. He and Pam stood there, looking around the office, dumbfounded. Finally, she turned to him.

"Way to go, you idiot fuck."