Melanie took great pride in her beauty. From a tender age she had always been able to get what she wanted with a coy glance, a gentle sway of her shapely hips, or a come hither look cast at the right lonely soul. At twenty five years old, she had finally decided to use her talent and beauty to get a wealthy husband. She didn't bother with the rich men her age. They were still careless philanderers, always jumping from one beautiful girl to the next, with no incentive to settle down. After two years of careful selection, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, she was about to become a multi-millionaire. Her mother, a wonderful but admittedly frumpy and aging fifty-five, did not approve. She said that Melanie was making a mistake, selling herself short and selling herself out. Melanie scoffed at this. She should be happy for me, she thought. At least she knows I'll have money! I won't be poor like she always was!
The lovely but shallow woman preened in her bathroom mirror and strolled down the hall, feeling satisfied. Her wedding was to be in three days. Three days and her life was set- no more worries, no more doing without.
On her big day, the day she would become Mrs Chesterfield Ellesmere, Melanie had second thoughts. They didn't last long, as she distracted herself from her worry with dreams of the wealth and prestige she was getting ready to marry into. Humming the wedding march and feeling cheerful, she called her mom and got her voicemail. “Hey, Momma. I'm getting ready to leave for the church. Don't be late,” she giggled. Melanie was really too old to be gigging, but she cut herself some slack. She skipped to her cherry red sports car, a per-marital gift from Chesterfield, and cruised down the highway, still humming. She daydreamed about everything her aging husband would give her (and ultimately bequeath to her!) and felt like her whole life was finally bearing some fruit.
The wedding was splendid; no expense had been spared. The flowers were plentiful and the wedding gown to die for. Melanie's only complaint (that she wisely kept to herself) was that instead of having a stately, handsome young groom at her side, she had a slightly stooped, gray haired old fart (but a rich old fart, so who cared?) She was pretty sure her wedding night would be all about getting her beauty sleep. The poor guy didn't look like he was capable of much, if anything. At the thought of sleeping with the geezer, Melanie shuddered slightly. “Are you cold, love?” asked the Geezer, er, Chesterfield.
“No, no..I'm fine, uh, sweetheart.” Melanie urged her decrepit husband along to the reception. At least there would be alcohol...
Dancing had always been one of Melanie's first loves. The grace and style that one could demonstrate made it worth the risk of a little sweat. She glared at the dancers on the floor, feeling left out. Chesterfield was not able to dance beyond the first couple of steps during their First Dance, and the other men were currently dancing with their own dates. She couldn't help but notice that several of the young men in her new family were really hot. Tall, with various shades of hair and skin tone, there wasn't much family resemblance- the only thing they seemed to have in common was that they were all very attractive and in their early 20's. They also all seemed to like slightly older women. She wondered if they had any money of their own. Maybe she had jumped the gun a little with old Chesterfield. “I'm sorry, love,” Melanie started in surprise at her groom's wavering voice. “I know you must want to dance. Shall I get someone for you?” Feeling a slight flush of guilt, Melanie shook her head no and smiled at Chesterfield. He patted her hand and she felt more like a daughter or granddaughter than a wife.
*********************
As Chesterfield guided Melanie through their home, her new home, she began to feel a twinge of remorse and even nervousness. The old guy wasn't so bad – but she didn't love him (but did he even expect that?). Unsure of herself and what to do next, she allowed him to continue walking her where he wanted until she realized where they were. “Um, is this my, um, our bedroom?” she asked nervously.
“Of course, my love. Where else would we go?” his eyes twinkled at her and she looked inside, feeling like she wanted to be somewhere else. “Don't be afraid, love,” soothed Chesterfield. “come inside with me.”
Melanie walked hesitantly into the bedroom and noticed an alarming detail. There was a huge bed in the room (definitely not the hospital bed that she'd assumed people this old would need) and it was set high. How would he even get on it? Not that she wanted him to! She cringed and glanced his way. He was smiling at her kindly and that put her at ease somewhat. Trying to envision the money and all that would come with it, she took his gnarled hand in her own and followed him to the bed. She was grateful when he dimmed the lights, and she sat on the large bed, feeling more than a little revulsion. She was actually going to have to do this. She sighed as he struggled to get on the bed next to her. “It's a little tough on me right now, love,” said her groom, “but it'll get easier soon.”
Completely baffled, Melanie wondered if Chesterfield's mind was right. If not, this might make things a bit easier. Maybe she could put him off until he fell asleep and then convince him they had been together? It was a reach, but at the moment it sounded possible.
“I wanted to tell you this before the wedding, love, but I was afraid you would back out. I know you wanted to marry me for my money, but still, it might put you off to know the family secret.”
“Um, secret?” Melanie inquired. “What secret?”
Chesterfield grimaced. “Well, love, did you happen to notice the other men at our wedding were all quite young and handsome?”
“Yes! Oh, I mean I did but...” Melanie flushed.
“No that's alright, love. I introduced them to you as my family, and we are, in a sense, but not by blood. We are just the same kind of person is all.” Chesterfield explained.
“I don't understand,” sputtered Melanie. “The same kind of person? What does that mean?”
“No, I don't suppose you do,” he sighed. “Best to show you.” At that his face altered and Melanie cringed in terror. “Now, now, love. I won't really hurt you, but you had something to offer me in this marriage just as I had money to offer you. I have wealth, you have your youth. If I take some of that and give you material wealth, well, we have an equal marriage, don't we, love?”
Melanie stared at the face in front of her. Chesterfield's skin had turned waxy and pale, his eyes glowed yellowish green, and his teeth had disappeared altogether, leaving a tiny row of suckers along his gums. “What the hell are you?” Melanie squealed. “What do you want from me?” she shook in fear and revulsion, no longer worried about something as trivial and comparatively easy as sex with an old man.
“I'm an incubus, love. I want a bit of your vitality, and in exchange, you get a bit of my wealth. More than a bit, actually, but you will never inherit all of it. I will outlive you by many lifetimes. I just need a bit here and there, but the good news is that once we do this, I will look as young and handsome as those other men. You will have it all. Money, prestige, and a husband who looks good on your arm.”
Melanie's mind was spinning. “What's the catch?” she asked suspiciously.
Chesterfield grimaced again, and with his altered face the expression was much more terrifying. Melanie eased back away from him to the other end of the large bed. He had the grace not to follow. “The thing is, love, and by the way, I call you love because I have done this many times and it's easier than keeping all of your names straight, I won't want you when you're old and ugly.”
“What?”, Melanie shrieked in offense. “You won't want me when I'm old and ugly, but you want to take some of my youth now ? Doesn't that mean I'll get old faster?”
Chesterfield gazed at her with affection and pride. “Yes, love. You are much smarter than you like others to believe. I won't want you when you're old, but that's all right. I look old now and you don't want me. You just think it's enough that I have money to offer you. Well, no offense love, but when you're old, what is it that you think you will have to offer me?
Melanie's mouth hung open. What would she have to offer him?
“Take your time, love,” he smirked. “I'm not trying to be cruel. You want something from me, and I need something from you. Seems fair to me. Now, I won't hurt you. I'm not a vampire and there's no bite. I just gently draw your essence, your life force I guess, through your skin and you simply weaken and fall asleep. When you wake up, you'll be well rested and hungry. That's it. There's no pain at all.” Melanie eyed him warily. It sounded easy enough. Wait! What am I thinking? She needed to get out of here now- but... found she couldn't. Her arms were limp at her sides and her eyes drooped slightly, though she never broke her gaze with Chesterfield. He leaned in and put his arm around her, gently pulling her closer to his side. He grasped her delicate arm and lifted it to his mouth, moaning in anticipation. She felt a slight draw at her bared elbow and soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
***********************
When Melanie woke up, she gasped in fear and jumped out of bed. Unused to the bed, she promptly fell flat but recovered quickly. She looked around frantically, seeking the monster she had unwittingly married, but he wasn't there. Sinking halfway back to the floor in relief, Melanie told herself it had all been a dream. A nightmare! She pulled herself together and went to the adjacent restroom to splash some water on her face.
She screamed so loud she felt she'd ripped her throat open. In the mirror wasn't twenty-seven year old Melanie. It was more like thirty-seven year old Melanie! She wasn't exactly old, but she'd aged ten years in one night! Facing the truth felt like a punch to her sternum. “Chesterfield Ellesmere, what the hell have you done to me?” she screamed. This wasn't right! This couldn't be right! She knew what incubi were; they fed on women through sex, right? She hadn't had sex, had she? She took off, running out of the room and down the hall. She nearly flew down the stairs but fell backward onto her bottom when she nearly plowed into her new “husband”. “Chesterfield, you monster,” she snarled. “What. Did. You. Do.”
Her now much younger, and quite handsome, husband smiled and held out his arm to offer her a hand up, which she pointedly ignored. “What did you do to me? I didn't even have sex with you! Did I? Oh, God, did I? Did you? I mean..” Melanie sobbed.
“No, no, love. There are many types of incubi and you're right, some of them feed during sex, but not all of them. Not me, love. I simply did what I said I would do. Nothing more, love,” he crooned, trying to soothe her.
“DON'T CALL ME LOVE!” she screeched. “I am not your love! You took tens years, TEN YEARS of my life!”
“Yes, well, er,” Chesterfield stammered but quickly rallied. “You are still quite the beauty, and should be for at least, I don't know, fifteen years or so.”
“Fifteen years? Fifteen?” Melanie felt herself begin to faint but put her head between her knees. No way would she let him get away with this!
“If you take care of yourself, yes, love. Fifteen solid, good years of being a rich man's trophy wife.” he preened.
Melanie growled, “Fifteen years is nothing.”
“Now, now, love, er, Melody,” he began.
“Melanie!!!! My name is Melanie!”
Rolling his eyes, Chesterfield snapped, “Well, now you know why I call you love, love!” His snide tone caused her eyes to narrow and he backpedaled. “It isn't that I mean you a lack of respect, I've just been through quite a bit of you loves.” Melanie growled some more. “Well, uh, you take a little time, lo-, uh, Melanie, and let this settle a bit. Then we'll talk about your new wardrobe. And, uh, your new, uh, car-”
“You already gave me a car, you creep!” she hurled her shoe at him but he ducked.
“Well, you can have another, what do I care? And, uh,” his eyes darted around as he tried to think of something to appease his seething bride. “You can redecorate?” he whimpered.
Silence fell as Melanie stared at him with wide eyes, her jaw hanging open. Redecorate?
“And that's not all, love, uh, Melanie. Just think! Of all the wives in my family, you are the newest! The youngest! You will always be the youngest of them all!” Until his kin took new wives, which he wisely didn't mention.
Melanie's eyes had glazed over and he unsure of where he stood, he remained silent.
“Well... Redecorating might be fun. And the other women will make me seem younger by comparison. And I will be rich. Which is what I wanted...” Melanie mused.
“Yes! Yes, exactly!” cried Chesterfield in relief. He couldn't remember ever having a wife fight him so hard. Usually they cried for a bit at the loss of their youth but went on to take their revenge by spending his money, which he didn't care about at all. He admired her for her fierce nature, but was glad she was coming around. He really didn't want to spend much more time placating her. She might feel like he was the predator here, but she had been preying on him as well. She regarded him steadily and seemed to come to some conclusion. “Fine. Fine, Chesterfield. You win. I'll stay. I'll be your wife, and you will buy me anything I want. But what happens at the end of the fifteen years?”
Chesterfield smiled gently at his much calmer bride. “After you age enough that you are no longer of the right- appearance,” he amended at the last minute, saving him a world of trouble, “you will go about the rest of your life elsewhere. I will give you money when you leave. You will be free to do as you like.”
“And just how old will I look then? At the ripe old age of fifty?” she menaced.
“Oh! Um, well, you won't look too bad at that point... I would say a few years after that is when you'll, uh, decline. I will age somewhat alongside you, which makes it the appropriate time for me to search out a new bride as well. I don't usually wait until I look as old as I did this time. I was just enjoying being alone, uh, I mean, it's not that I don't like being married...”
“Shut up! Fine. Fifteen years then.” Melanie huffed then stormed off, back upstairs to their, her, room. No way was she sharing it with him! Well, she reconsidered, he is pretty hot now. Dark hair and eyes and a very handsome face. Broad shoulders, tall frame... she mused. Hmm. The next fifteen years might not be so bad, she thought as she reached her room and her groom was beginning to relax. But after that, it wouldn't be the way Chesterfield thought it would be. She'd be his trophy for a decade and a half and that would give her the time she needed to amass more wealth than the payoff he planned. She would squirrel away money, jewelry, whatever she could. And she would educate herself thoroughly. She would learn all she could about the different species of incubi, and most importantly, she would learn how to hunt and kill them. Starting with her own dear husband.