NOT MY TYPE - A FLASH FICTION STORY BY MICHAEL SORBELLO

"Please, accept my offer," the handsome man in the fancy suit planted a kiss on Lady Eleanor's superbly delicate hand, memorizing the softness of her beauty on his lips. "It would be my honor, my lady. I wish to give myself to you and no one else."

Lady Eleanor gazed down upon the handsome man from her crimson throne. She eyed her devoted admirer haughtily, analyzing every inch of the man's confident composure. After scanning him from head to toe like a lion fixating on its prey, she seemed to be displeased with what she saw.

Her newest admirer had character and charm, but something was horribly lacking about him. He had no class; an ugly truth was hiding behind his flawless smile. His superficial charisma angered her greatly.

How dare he make such a bold statement! the woman thought. How dare he offer himself to me without contemplating whether someone of his low status is worthy of my affection!

Lady Eleanor grew riper with rage and resentment by the second, jerking her hand away from the man's lips. Finally, she reached a point of such utter fury from her disgust toward the lowly man even daring to present himself to her that her eyes flared with murder.

"Not my type!" Lady Eleanor wailed like a banshee. She backhanded the elegant man across the face with monstrous power, decapitating him with little effort. Precious blood spilled across the marble tile of Lady Eleanor's throne room and sprayed all over her million-dollar dress. Another precious offering gone to waste.

"Sebastian!" Lady Eleanor called, her voice quivering with scathing anger.

A stubby old butler in a suit rushed into the throne room, his expensive dress shoes making him slide across the polished marble tile with every terrified step. "Yes, Lady Eleanor?" he asked as politely as possible, unfazed by the headless corpse oozing blood everywhere.

"Sebastian, you worthless old fool! How many times do I have to explain my type to you before you get it through that thick skull of yours!?"

"Apologies, my dear lady," Sebastian bowed, swallowing nervously. "Your standards are very high, to be fair. There's only so many in the world that suit your exquisite tastes. It's rather difficult to meet your demands, especially when you require a new one every single night."

"I didn't ask for excuses, Sebastian."

"Very well," Sebastian shuddered, "I'll be sure to have this mess cleaned up and bring in the next suitor right away. Hopefully he's your... type?"

"Type AB-negative is the only type I can accept, so he better be my fucking type!" Lady Eleanor spat venomously, "or I'll  have to show you what happens to those that fail to respect the demands of a high-class vampire!"