Susan Jarvis: My Halloween Dinner Date

Tonight I have the Count around to dinner;
    he’s partial to an after twilight bite.
A saint he ain’t but I prefer a sinner —
    I ’m weak and flushed of cheek now he’s in sight.

Blood-red tomato soup’s the way to start —
    To end — Veinilla Tarte Au Necktarine.
Decoffinated coffee plays its part —
    I knew he’d like my garlic-free cuisine.

“Perhaps you’d deign to dance?” I ask him shyly.
    “Yes please!” he moans in tones that make me glow.
We pirouette across the parlour parquet
     in a tantalizing, torrid fang-dango!

He cloaks me in his charms — all senses reeling,
    my inhibition’s nibbled clean away.
“You’re mad!” I gasp, while floating toward the ceiling.
    “Oh, just a little batty, some would say.”

Now quite the vamp and well and truly smitten
    I cry out, “Will you love me till I die?”
“Though tasty, you’re too hasty, once I’ve bitten
    I can’t deny my instinct’s whim to fly!”

How dare that sucker gorge my fare then leave me!
    I’ll not invite the Count again to sup!
A guest who leaves his hostess with a hickey
    should stay and do the bloody washing up!