Vladimir alighted outside the church in the quaint British village. He had come here in hope the tranquil surroundings could help him forget the fiasco at Westminster.
But no matter how much he wished to, he could not get the scene out of his mind. The American girl, skin like porcelain, her arms wrapped around her girlfriend in a passionate embrace. The young man, screaming from the nave about his standards. And his own fangs, slipping from the twisting man's neck and ending up in his penis.
Well, it could not be helped. The man certainly had contacted an infection, and all the urinary specialists in the world would not prevent his penis rotting off.