Three months earlier...

"CUT!"

Say what you like about The Argist Academy, but the clothes were fabulous.

Liza had always been a fan of fine tailoring and the Savile Row suit the guy she'd just finished filming was wearing was an incredible example. The tux fitted him perfectly. The material of the trousers was slim fitting enough to outline impressive quads, while the jacket looked as if it had been made for him.

It reached his hips, falling in a way that you could only describe as luxuriantly draping. The arm seams were in perfect alignment with his shoulders so that the jacket moved seamlessly with him.

The bow tie, naturally enough, was dangling untied and his thick, dark hair ruffled where he'd run his fingers through it. That finger ruffle had been unscripted, but the gesture charmed Liza the director. It drew attention to those dark eyes and gave him an air of slight vulnerability as well as added sincerity. She kept the finger ruffle in.

"Good job!" she said as she moved forward. Gregor had removed his jacket. The fearsome heat of the lighting had given him a sheen that fortunately only enhanced his appearance on the film, but he did look decidedly uncomfortable now.

"You'll no' need a second take then?" he asked, and Liza shook her head firmly.

"No need—you were perfect. Have you ever considered a career in—"

Gregor shook his head firmly this time, obviously anticipating something he'd been asked before.

"The Academy keeps me busy," he said, imbibing the answer with the tiniest bit of regret so that Liza didn't feel her point had been dismissed. Or as if her question had been asked countless times before.

"Pity," she said. "You're a natural in front of the camera. And that's always much more difficult when you're trying to tell people a message or sell them something."

He smiled back at her. "Thanks. Hopefully my bosses will like the piece. They can be hard to please though. Think they'll let me keep the penguin suit?"

"Hope so!" Liza said. She'd had nothing to do with the props or costumes for this piece of film. The instructions and direction from The Argist Academy had been unambiguous and precise. Usually, Liza didn't tolerate heavy-handedness on the part of the client—creative freedom and all that—but The Academy paid generously and on time.

As her sound director put it, "Think of us as a fish and chip shop Liza. If a wealthy client comes in and says they want fish and deep-fried marshmallows, fish and deep-fried marshmallows it is". Or on this occasion—a detailed 10-page instruction manual on the precise look and feel of the advertisement.

"What's the ad being used for? The Firm didn't specify the audience?" she asked, curious about this little omission as they had been so specific about everything else.

Gregor shrugged, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "Ach, some campaign they have coming up I think. I'm no' entirely sure."

His accent, combined with that gorgeous face and body, was another deal-sealer for Liza. She knew it was a cliché, but she loved a Scottish accent. Gregor's was perfect—his inflections rising at the end of sentences so sometimes a lot of what he said sounded like a question. He rolled his Rs beautifully, often said "ah" instead of "I" and never said small, preferring "wee", a word that could be used for all kinds of purposes.

Now, Gregor looked as if he was hanging back politely. She could see the tiny, almost imperceptible, tap of his foot. Clearly, he was a man who had a lot to do.

"Do you need to go?" she asked, and he jolted slightly—caught out by body language communication.

"Well, aye and no," he said. "I've been working really hard lately and I feel like I'm due a wee rest."

She could see thought processes going on behind those eyes, and he smiled at her: a beam that showed off straight white teeth, a dimple on one cheek and the fanning of fine lines around those dark eyes.

Flip, it was powerful. Liza, having worked with many beautiful people over the years, counted herself immune to many of their charms. Physical beauty often disguised rampant insecurity. When you valued yourself according to what you looked like, Liza's mother had always told her, you're setting yourself up for a lifetime of unhappiness.

Liza, preferring not to entangle herself in the mess of someone's fucked up ego and/or eating disorder/gym obsession/sun avoiding/expensive skin cream purchasing/Botox, fillers and plastic surgery mess, generally avoided the beautiful people.

Gregor though... as the seconds ticked by, she could feel her resolve slipping.

Oh dear.

"And what would your 'wee' rest involve?"

He gave her a shy smile—oh help, help, help—and shrugged lightly, the movement causing his jacket held by one finger over a shoulder to ripple, sending out waves of whatever aftershave he had been wearing. Pine. Wood smoke and undercut with something very musky.

"Well, sweetheart," and he smiled at her again, as if checking out the effect the little endearment had on her. "I think I probably need to lie down."

By now, the studio was deserted. The others had slipped out minutes ago after she'd called "cut", and the two of them had the place to themselves. There were no couches, sofas or beds in there was Liza's first thought—one she chided herself for immediately. What was she? Middle-aged now?

Gregor had picked up her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing it and winking at her at the same time.

Oh, who needed a bed?

Gregor wasn't kissing her hand anymore. He'd moved to her throat. Liza didn't usually allow anyone near her throat. It was too risky, a seduction technique often used by vampires...but...oh, God. She couldn't stop him now.

His mouth had fastened on her neck, and she arched her head back, and he held it back for her as his lips moved down, the tongue flickering on her skin and sending tiny jolts through her entire body. He'd fixed for a while on the spot where her pulse throbbed, and a frisson of fear made her shiver. Was she about to die, and if that was so why, why, why couldn't she stop him...?

She felt his teeth scrape gently against her skin and she stiffened in his arms. "Ssh," soft words whispered, "you'll love this..."

That was another thing vampire seducers did, supposedly. Told their victims they were going to love whatever happened next, though it was impossible to know the truth of this seeing as anyone it did happen too was well and truly dead.

He'd started to bite her, sucking gently. Oh well, if she were to die then it would be with a smile on her face. Her groin had tightened, and her nipples hardened, and then he moved, his lips leaving that oh-so-delicate, oh-so-vulnerable spot.

She thanked the wardrobe gods that this morning, she'd chosen a low-cut top. Gregor's mouth continued its downward spiral. He didn't need to push her vest top down that far to get to her nipples, his tongue circling the left one and then the right.

"I can't... I can't stand up any longer," Liza's voice sounded hoarse, the words coming out raggedly and between pants.

Seconds later, and they were on the floor, Gregor on his elbows above her and his mouth back on her nipples. The groan she let out was half-way between pleasure and pain, but she forced herself to open her eyes.

The lighting in the room had changed. The sun was setting, so its dropping rays shining in blacked him out. She could see his profile, cameo black. It was unnerving, not being able to tell if his eyes glowed red, vampire style. Again, another vampire sex technique was to go through the whole act, and then kill your victim as soon as you'd come. A two for one pleasure deal, so to speak.

Again, her irrational mind didn't care. The risk was worth it. Her body told her so.

She began to rake her fingernails down his back and felt him curve his spine in response. A fan of the pleasure/pain principle too, then.

He lay down beside her and slid his hand down her yoga pants, another useful garment that lent itself to being fucked. Her spine arched at that as the fingers found her clitoris. Her whole groin felt engorged entirely, the foreplay so far having done its dirty work.

It was the laziest bout of sex she'd ever had. She'd done nothing, apart from scratch Gregor's back, but it felt so gloriously good she could only do the lie back and think of England thing.

He kissed her stomach, tiny butterfly motions that moved exquisitely slowly downwards, her mind shrieking hurry up and don't stop at the same time.

Those yoga pants were yanked down, and her legs naturally assumed what her Pilates teacher called the A-frame position, knees up, legs hip-width apart. She couldn't stop them, though. Her thighs fell out, all the better to let him in.

That tongue! And who'd have guessed that the man in front of her had talents that included being able to hold your breath for a very long time? It circled her clitoris, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, his fingers moving in and out of her vagina. His other hand reached up to caress her left breast, and her spine arched up some more.

"I'm going to..."

There was no need to add anything more. The familiar tightening started, building up and building up until she felt the release of it, the spasms almost frightening in their intensity. Dazed, she realised he was now inside her, his hips moving rhythmically as she contracted around him. Every thrust made her groan, and his breathing had become ragged too.

"Oh...fuuuccckk." He collapsed on top of her, his mouth finding that exposed spot on her neck once more, and his teeth grazing against it.

Fear finally triumphed, allowing her to shove him off her as firmly as she could, and scramble to her feet, eyes seeking out the room's exit as it looked like she might need to run for her life.

Gregor, naked, muscular and covered a fine sheen of sweat, ran a hand through his hair and looked up at her.

"What's the matter?"

Liza felt foolish suddenly. A vampire would feel different, surely? And when he'd collapsed on top of her, she'd felt the thudding of his heart.

"I...er, need to rush!" She pulled up her yoga pants and hoped he couldn't see her blush.

Gregor began to laugh. "You thought I was one of them, didn't you? A vampire?"

He stood too, looking around for his discarded clothing.

"I'll need to tell my boss that," he said, buttoning the trousers and reaching for the shirt.

What? He was going to tell his boss he'd just shagged the woman The Academy had contracted to do a job for them. Interesting relationship to have with your employer.

Something must have shown on her face, as Gregor burst out laughing again.

"No, I'll no' tell her about our wee bit o' fun," his accent sounded even stronger, and Liza knew she was destined to find Scottish men irresistible from now on.

"It's just my job. I'm a vampire hunter. I definitely hope no-one else ever mistakes me for one of the bloodsuckers."

Follow this up later on"CUT!"

Say what you like about The Firm, but the clothes were fabulous.

Liza had always been a fan of fine tailoring and the Savile Row suit the man she'd just finished filming was wearing was an incredible example. The tux fitted him perfectly. The material of the trousers was slim fitting enough to outline impressive quads, while the jacket looked as if it had been made for him.

It reached his hips, falling in a way that you could only describe as luxuriantly draping. The arm seams were in perfect alignment with his shoulders so that the jacket moved seamlessly with him.

The bow tie, naturally enough, was dangling untied and his thick dark hair ruffled where he'd run his fingers through it. That finger ruffle had been unscripted, but Liza the director had been so charmed by the gesture. It drew attention to those dark brown eyes and gave him an air of slight vulnerability as well as added sincerity. The gesture had been kept in.

"Good job!" she said as she moved forward. Gregor had removed his jacket. The fearsome heat of the lighting had given him a sheen that fortunately only enhanced his appearance on the film, but he did look decidedly uncomfortable now.

"You'll no' need a second take then?" he asked, and Liza shook her head firmly.

"No need—you were perfect. Have you ever considered a career in –"

Gregor shook his head firmly this time, anticipating the question before it came.

"The Firm keeps me busy," he said, imbibing the answer with the tiniest bit of regret so that Liza didn't feel dismissed. Or as if her question had been asked countless times before.

"Pity," she said. "You're a natural in front of the camera. And that's always much more difficult when you're trying to tell people a message or sell them something."

He smiled back at her. "Thanks. Hopefully ma bosses will like the piece. They can be hard to please though. Think they'll let me keep the penguin suit?"

"Hope so!" Liza said. She'd had nothing to do with the props or costumes for this particular piece of film. The instructions and direction from The Firm had been unambiguous and precise. Usually, Liza didn't tolerate heavy-handedness on the part of the client—creative freedom and all that—but The Firm paid generously and on time.

As her sound director put it, "Think of us as a fish and chip shop Liza. If a wealthy client comes in and says they want fish and deep-fried marshmallows, fish and deep-fried marshmallows it is". Or on this occasion—a detailed 10-page instruction manual on the precise look and feel of the advertisement.

"What's the ad being used for? The Firm didn't specify the audience?" she asked, curious about this little omission as they had been so specific about everything else.

Gregor shrugged, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "Ach, some campaign they have coming up ah think. Ah'm no' entirely sure."

His accent, combined with that gorgeous face and body, was another deal-sealer for Liza. She knew it was a cliché, but she did love a Scottish accent. Gregor's was perfect—his inflections rising at the end of sentences so sometimes a lot of what he said sounded like a question. He rolled his Rs beautifully, often said "ah" instead of "I" and never said small, preferring "wee", a word that was much more descriptive and could be used for all kinds of purposes.

Gregor looked as if he was now hanging back politely. She could see the tiny almost imperceptible tap of his foot. Clearly, he was a man who had a lot to do.

"Do you need to go?" she asked and he jolted slightly—caught out by body language communication.

"Well, aye and no," he said. "Ah've been working really hard lately and Ah feel like I'm due a wee rest."

She could see some kind of thought process going on behind those eyes, and he suddenly smiled at her: a beam that showed off straight white teeth, a dimple on one cheek and the fanning of fine lines around those dark eyes.

Flip, it was powerful. Liza, having worked with many beautiful people over the years, counted herself immune to many of their charms. Physical beauty often disguised rampant insecurity. When you valued yourself according to what you looked like, Liza's mother had always told her, you're setting yourself up for a lifetime of unhappiness.

Liza, preferring not to entangle herself in the mess of someone's fucked up ego and/or eating disorder/gym obsession/sun avoiding/expensive skin cream purchasing/Botox, fillers and plastic surgery mess, generally steered clear of the beautiful people.

Gregor though... as the seconds ticked by, she could feel her resolve slipping.

Oh dear.

"And what would your 'wee' rest involve?"

He gave her a shy smile—oh yikes, yikes, yikes—and shrugged lightly, the movement causing his jacket held by one finger over a shoulder to ripple, sending out waves of whatever aftershave he had been wearing. Pine. Wood smoke and undercut with something very musky.

"Well, hen," and he smiled at her again, as if checking out the effect the little endearment had on her. "Ah think ah probably need to lie down."

By now, the studio was deserted. The others had slipped out minutes ago after she'd called "cut", and the two of them had the place to themselves. There were no couches, sofas or beds in there was Liza's first thought—one she chided herself for immediately. What was she? Middle-aged now?

Gregor had picked up her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing it and winking at her at the same time.

Oh, who needed a bed?

Gregor was kissing her hand anymore. He'd moved to her throat. Liza didn't usually allow anyone near her throat. It was too risky, a seduction technique often used by vampires...but...oh, God. She couldn't stop him now.

His mouth had fastened on her neck, and she arched her head back, and he held it back for her as his lips moved down, the tongue flickering on her skin and sending tiny jolts through her entire body. He'd fixed for a while on the spot where her pulse throbbed, and a frisson of fear made her shiver. Was she about to die, and if that was so why, why, why couldn't she stop him...?

She felt his teeth scrape gently against her skin and she stiffened in his arms. "Ssh," soft words whispered, "you'll love this..."

That was another thing vampire seducers did, supposedly. Told their victims they were going to love whatever happened next, though it was impossible to know the truth of this seeing as anyone it did happen too was well and truly dead.

He'd started to bite her, sucking gently. Oh well, if she were to die then it would be with a smile on her face. Her groin had tightened, and her nipples hardened, and then he moved, his lips leaving that oh-so-delicate, oh-so-vulnerable spot.

She thanked the wardrobe gods that this morning, she'd chosen a low-cut top. Gregor's mouth continued its downward spiral. He didn't need to push her vest top down that far to get to her nipples, his tongue circling the left one and then the right.

"I can't... I can't stand up any longer," Liza's voice sounded hoarse, the words coming out raggedly and between pants.

Seconds later, and they were on the floor, Gregor on his elbows above her and his mouth back on her nipples. The groan she let out was half-way between pleasure and pain, but she forced herself to open her eyes.

The lighting in the room had changed. The sun was setting, so its dropping rays shining in blacked him out. She could see his profile, cameo black. It was unnerving, not being able to tell if his eyes glowed red, vampire style. Again, another vampire sex technique was to go through with the whole act, and then kill your victim as soon as you'd come. A two for one pleasure deal, so to speak.

Again, her irrational mind didn't care. The risk was worth it. Her body told her so.

She began to rake her fingernails down his back and felt him curve his spine in response. A fan of the pleasure/principle too, then.

He lay down beside her and slid his hand down her yoga pants, another useful garment that lent itself to being fucked. Her spine arched at that as the fingers found her clitoris. Her whole groin felt engorged entirely, the foreplay so far having done its dirty work.

It was the laziest bout of sex she'd ever had. She'd done nothing, apart from scratch Gregor's back, but it felt so gloriously good she could only do the lie back and think of England thing.

He kissed her stomach, tiny butterfly motions that moved exquisitely slowly downwards, her mind shrieking hurry up and don't stop at the same time.

Those yoga pants were yanked down, and her legs naturally assumed what her Pilates teacher called the A-frame position, knees up, legs hip-width apart. She couldn't stop them, though. Her thighs fell out, all the better to let him in.

That tongue! And who'd have guessed that the man in front of her had talents that included being able to hold your breath for a very long time? It circled her clitoris, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, his fingers moving in and out of her vagina. His other hand reached up to caress her left breast, and her spine arched up some more.

"I'm going to..."

There was no need to add anything more. The familiar tightening started, building up and building up until she felt the release of it, the spasms almost frightening in their intensity. Dazed, she realised he was now inside her, his hips moving rhythmically as she contracted around him. Every thrust made her groan, and his breathing had become ragged too.

"Oh...fuuuccckk." He collapsed on top of her, his mouth finding that exposed spot on her neck once more, and his teeth grazing against it.

Fear finally triumphed, allowing her to shove him off her as firmly as she could, and scramble to her feet, eyes seeking out the room's exit as it looked like she might need to run for her life.

Gregor, naked, muscular and glorious, ran a hand through his hair and looked up at her.

"What's the matter?"

Liza felt foolish suddenly. A vampire would feel different, surely? And when he'd collapsed on top of her, she'd felt the thudding of his heart.

"I...er, need to rush!" She pulled up her yoga pants and hoped he couldn't see her blush.

Gregor began to laugh. "You thought I was one of them, didn't you? A vampire?"

He stood too, looking around for his discarded clothing.

"I'll need to tell ma boss that," he said, buttoning the trousers and reaching for the shirt.

What? He was going to tell his boss he'd just shagged the woman The Firm had contracted to do a job for them. Interesting relationship to have with your employer.

Something must have shown on her face, as Gregor burst out laughing again.

"No, I'll no' tell her about our wee bit o' fun," his accent sounded even stronger, and Liza knew she was destined to find Scottish men irresistible from now on.

"It's just ma job. I'm a vampire hunter. I definitely hope no-one else ever mistakes me for one of the bloodsuckers."