A/N: This chapter was written by Riatree because she felt like trying out a POV. We really felt like exploring the character of Pam because she is just so much fun! Don't we all wish we could be as ethereally cool as her?

Thanks also to whoever's been reading, it's been great!! Our first review cheered me up NO END! Long may it continue :-)

Without further ado, all Pam fanatics, hope you like this one ;)

Pam's POV:

It didn't take me any more than twenty seconds to work it out. Alright, so he hasn't admitted it, but I know. He's so fucking predictable. Trying to convince himself that after 200 years he can still hide the inner workings of his brain from me. Doesn't he realise that it only takes one glance or a tiny twitch from his massive frame for me to know exactly what's going on with him?

All that's said about the hardened, old vampire, so long left on this Earth that have become about as interesting as pieces of gravel? 99% true, 1% bullshit. You see, every so often, one human gets through to a vampire, and it's often never quite clear why they have such an impact on us. A hidden connection, something about their scent, their action has an effect which is rarely seen; the effect of affection towards a breather. So I saw the way he looked tonight, the way he was transfixed, rooted to the spot by Kat's beauty and captivating voice, and I knew, that it had indeed happened – she had gotten to him. And his lust, for once, must be suppressed.. But if he asks me for any help on this one, I will have to flatly refuse. Yes, he is beautiful, magnificent, a Viking sex-god who could charm his way into the Pentagon, and yes, he can have his pick of women from the multitude of propositions from all-too-willing fangbangers that he gets, but he needs to learn.

Truth is, I would actually do almost anything for Eric. Yes, being his child means I am automatically obliged to do anything he wants me to do on pain of something very terrible, but our relationship has reached higher plateaus than that. I do not stay with Eric because I am forced to: I stay because he has earned my respect and admiration in a way in which no mortal could. Fate had parted us for many years, but when he summoned me to Louisiana with a proposal to co-own his new business venture, I flew like a – well, nothing flies better than a vampire on a mission. Yes, the club we had there was a wonderful endeavour, providing us with many humourous kicks and endless challenges, but I soon wanted something new. I suggested to Eric that we might try our luck again across the ocean, back in my home country, England, to see what delights the London nightlife could turn up. Oddly enough, after a minimal amount of pestering, he agreed, and we set up this place. We had all the time in the world after all, he used to joke. I don't regret it – seeing the Soho regulars presenting the toughest image they can in the form of bondage pants, corsets, trench coats and chains is always entertaining, and the peaceful, cosier life England has to offer often suits a vampire greatly. We still get plenty of action, of course, but have the option of actually switching off when need be. And so we came to this night, the night he saw the woman which struck such wonder in him.

If I'm honest, I'm not overwhelmingly surprised by the effect she's had on him. She struck me the minute she spoke too. It was about two months ago now, when our regular twice-weekly band, the singer of gothic metal Amoratra (just one of the many, many heavy rockers lacing the streets and clubs of downtown central London) met with me to discuss a change of set. He spent the whole night, of course, sitting as close to me as possible, finding every single opportunity he could to brush my knee or thrust his arm out in the direction of my chest, the filthy bastard. No wonder I've taken a preference to women, after the shenanigans men think they can fucking get away with. Anyway, he announced that they wanted to bring in a female singer for a few evenings, just so they could fit some more covers in which required a soprano voice. I didn't mind, of course; they would only get the sack from Eric if the punters weren't happy with their music – and that threat was enough to instil in the band the necessity to always keep things good and sweet. A hot girl up there as well, I thought, might attract a lot more attention, and attention is always good for business.

Before I could ask, however, who exactly this new singer was going to be, Marat jumped up and enthusiastically offered to introduce her to me. No doubt, some sick fantasies were already playing out in his head…but I said yes and minutes later he returned with the prettiest little cupcake I had seen in just about a century. She had on jeans, flat red shoes, a grey vest top and black blazer - the 'casual look', as the fashion magazines always call it. She had her arm around Marat and whispered a few words to him in a language I perceived to be something Eastern European (I'd picked up some phrases on our travels, but I couldn't place it exactly), before turning to me –

"Hey, Pam, is it?" I picked up the accent in her voice, not rough like Eric's but softer, almost melodic in its intonation. "I'm Marat's sister, I'll be singing here in a while and I was wondering if you'd let me borrow one of your outfits? I mean if that's okay, I'd just like to really look the part and nothing I have seems to work!"

I have to admit to being slightly taken aback by the confidence she displayed, but that's just what got me. She wasn't a meek, whiny little slip of a thing, clinging to her brother in the presence of Big Scary Mean Vampire Lady, but had spoken out, asked me for my clothes, even. She certainly intrigued me, and I couldn't turn down her offer. Her cleavage would look wonderful, given the right frame, I thought.

"Oh? Oh, of course, of course you can," I replied, "look, why don't we leave your brother to it and you can follow me, we'll choose you something." Here would be a companion I was sure wouldn't bore me to tears (as girls often did) or scoff at my every choice (as Eric always did).

"Yeah, sure! Thanks, Pam, I'd love that." Damn, her smile looked so sweet.

She turned to her brother, kissed him lightly on the cheek and said something which I picked up as sounding like 'Pah-kah." Marat took one last look in my direction, winked and walked out to mingle, or touch up women, or whatever guys like to do in their free evening time.

"Look, Pam, I'm sorry for this but I was just admiring your wonderful outfits and I thought I might like to try some of that."

"Don't worry," I said (I was taking a liking to her, after all), "just tell me what kind of stuff you like and I'll find it…it's this way." I took her to the room where I stored all of my personal gothic apparel, perfect for impressing the evening scene. We rifled through the corsets, and were just about to move onto the latex section when she stopped me.

"Oh, this one is perfect! May I have this one?" I looked at her selection: a purple and black top with buckles down the front and a square cut neck, which I personally thought would look beautiful against her olive skin. Clearly she thought so too. Wow, I was liking this girl. "And maybe, with those shoes?" Again, the calf-length black boots were perfect for her.

"Yes, of course. You can try them on here if you want."

"Nah, it's fine. I've wasted enough of your time, as it is. Thanks for these though…"

I didn't really want her to leave. "No, stay, if you would. I'd like your advice on something I read in a magazine."

"Alright Pam, but I'm warning you, I don't do celebrity gossip. Fashion I'm okay with, but I really don't want to know what Paris Hilton ate for breakfast." Well, she was one in about 30 million.

I fished out the article. It was one documenting the rise and fall (no pun intended) of the high-heeled shoe throughout the decades. Of course, I had been around to see most of these ludicrous fashion moves, but I wanted her perspective on what was 'in' today.

"Well, look here. What I was wondering was, with straps, or strapless? What would go well with my new whalebone corset?"

She took the page from my hand and considered the images carefully. "With straps, definitely. Especially the ones that lace up the leg slightly, if you can ever find them. Hey, wait, I'm going in a couple of days to Camden Market, if you let me know your size I'll find you a pair! Someone's gotta be willing to hand some over. Just, you know, seeing as you can't come out during the day, and shopping at night is awfully painful…"

Again with the confidence. Not only had this girl been completely not fazed by my undead state, but she had, within 15 minutes of meeting me, offered to do my shopping. And in such an innocent, friendly manner as I was not accustomed to (normally most people who want to do anything for me come with a sex repertoire which I mostly don't care for). I agreed, it was a good idea.

"It's set then," she continued, seeing my smile of approval, "I'll get them to you as soon as I can, promise! Oh, wait! I've been so rude, I never introduced myself! I'm Kat, by the way. Katerynna, that is. It's meant to be Katerina but, it looked a lot better like that, and nobody ever, ever calls me by that name anyway!"

She put her hand out, probably expecting me to shake it. I was going to wave it away, but I figured if I was going to be friends with her I'd have to concede to her wishes just this once. So I accepted it, smiling even, revelling in the delighted look in her beautiful eyes as she let go of my hand.

At her request (which I was only too happy to acquiesce to) we continued to sort through my wardrobe, finding potential outfits for her, while reshuffling mine into different combinations of dresses, boots, corsets, tops and accessories. We must have spent an hour and a half lost in leather, satin, velvet and stiletto heaven, not really aware of much else until -

"I GET ALL THE GIRLS, I GET ALL THE GIRLS, I GET ALL THE - "

"Damn!" Kat exclaimed suddenly, dragging her phone out of her pocket, grimacing and pressing the answer button. "Yes...what? You're WHERE?! Marat, you utter IDIOT! What the HELL made you do that?! Wait...yes, hold on, I'm coming down there, don't overturn any furniture in the mean time..."

"What's he done?" I enquired.

"Oh, only gone and got himself pissed and then tried to swim naked in a bloody FOUNTAIN in the middle of a public park!" I wasn't surprised, but tried to express sympathy . "Well, Pam, it's been lovely meeting you know, but I've got to go and attempt to get the bastard out of the station. I'm sorry! Thanks for everything though, you have my home number, don't you? Drop me a line any time you like!"

With that, she hugged me briefly, thanked me yet again for the clothes, with the promise of returning them pressed clean as soon as possible, and took her leave. Shame she had to go so quickly, I'd just been planning a whole host of conversation topics. Still, at least I'd been left with the assurance I could call her, which I planned to do with immediate haste...

A/N I know this seems a bit cut-off, but I promise it's for a reason! We didn't want to post too much too soon! x