This story was inspired by a plot suggestion from teewhy1977 and the San Diego fanfic readers group - thanks girls, this one is for you.

The characters and setting belong to Charlaine Harris of course. The story is set mainly in the SVM world (although I haven't been able to prevent a few TB elements creeping in). The starting point is where the books start, although its a bit later in time (post Katrina). Some of the familiar characters will be here, some won't. Some themes will follow the books, some won't. The story is told from Sookie's point of view, unless otherwise indicated.

If you've just discovered the story and decide to read on, please do let me know what you think - feedback is always much appreciated.

I'd sorted the bills every which way: by due date, by amount, by urgency. Nothing made any difference. Whichever way I looked at them, I owed more than I had in my checking account and my meagre savings put together, and more than I would earn in the next month.

Northern Louisiana wasn't immune to the economic problems of the country. We were a poor State anyway and the closure of one of the few remaining factories in Monroe had impacted on everyone; including Sam Merlotte's bar where I worked as a waitress. Sure, it was the only bar in town and lord knows people still needed the drink and the company, but they drank less and tipped smaller. I couldn't blame them of course; I knew I wasn't the only one suffering.

Things were just so much harder since Gran had passed away. Hardly a day went by when I didn't miss her. She'd been the one constant presence in my life since my parents had died, always there for me with a shoulder to cry on and a slice of her legendary pecan pie when things got tough. Now I had to face the financial as well as the emotional consequences of losing her. Her small pension had been just enough to cover the running expenses of our old farmhouse, and my wages and tips had paid for food, clothes and everything else we needed.

I'm not an extravagant person; I don't socialise much, I buy most of my clothes from the thrift shop, or discounted at my friend Tara's dress shop at the end of each season. I run an old car but that's pretty much a necessity, living as far out of town as I do. There was just nothing I could cut back on, which meant I had to find another source of income somehow.

My brother Jason was all for me using my 'gift'. He had many creative suggestions for how my ability to hear people's thoughts could help him make money. The trouble was most of them were dodgy, if not downright illegal. Of course Jason never thought through the consequences of anything properly. The reason I stayed in Bon Temps was through fear of what would happen if the authorities ever discovered my unusual skill.

Mistrust of the government runs deep in these parts, and I was certain that if the FBI or CIA ever found out what I could do, they would be unlikely to ever let me return to a normal life. I didn't want to spend my days in the service of the state.

So I picked out the most urgent bills, putting the others back in a folder to wait until another day, and set off into town to keep at least a few of the wolves from the door.

Someone had left a copy of the Shreveport Times in the bank; I flicked through the pages while I waited for the queue to go down. The advert caught my eye immediately. It was a full quarter page, and printed in blood red letters, so that wasn't surprising.

Blood donors wanted for prestigious event, top rates paid, it said. Glancing around to make sure no-one was looking I tore out the page as quietly as I could.

I knew perfectly well they weren't looking for the kind of donors who went into the hospital every couple of months to donate a pint for the Louisiana blood bank. The beneficiaries of my donation wouldn't be premature babies or old ladies recovering from heart surgery. They would need the blood just as much, but they liked theirs fresh and direct from the source.

I knew all about vampires, I thought. We may never have had one visit our little town, being as we were such a backwater, but I watched TV and read the magazines customers left behind in the bar. Okay, maybe having one feed on you was pretty gross, but I'd never considered myself the squeamish sort. Besides, one night of discomfort was worth a worry-free month any day.

Ever since the Stackhouse family had first arrived in Bon Temps we had made sacrifices to keep our land and our home. Our old farmhouse was no grand plantation house like 'Tara', but I was as determined as Scarlett O'Hara had been to keep it in the family. I'd pretty much given up hope of marrying and having children, but my brother Jason would surely settle down eventually and produce some little Stackhouses to maintain the family name.

I made the call as soon as I got home, so as not to give myself time to get cold feet. A recorded message with a husky woman's voice picked up. I gave myself a mental slap – vampires were hardly likely to answer the phone in the middle of the day. Blood donor auditions would be taking place on Monday night at eight at a club called Fangtasia, the message said. I made a note of the address, all the while groaning at the awful pun in the name. Time wasters will be eaten the message warned. I got the feeling she wasn't joking.

Four nights later I set off just before sunset to drive the thirty-odd miles to Shreveport. Although it was our nearest city, I didn't go there that often so I'd checked the map carefully to make sure I could find my destination.

I sang along loudly to the country songs on KXKS to keep my spirits up, but it didn't stop me having second or even third thoughts on the way there. I wondered what Gran would have made of my decision. She was certainly no prude, in face I sometimes suspected she might have been a little wild in her youth, although that was hard to imagine. She was certainly no bigot, unlike some of her friends – yes Maxine Fortenberry, this means you! Even so, I wasn't entirely sure she would have approved of my plan. By the time I pulled into the parking lot of a small strip mall in a deserted industrial neighbourhood, I must have changed my mind and back again eight or ten times.

The sight of the queue of people waiting outside a nondescript, windowless building only amplified my doubts. They were mainly women, with a few men, but they were uniformly dressed in black. Or at least some of them were dressed. Most were wearing outfits so skimpy they barely counted as clothes at all.

I'd thought long and hard about what to wear. I had deliberately chosen not to dress like a 'fang-banger' as the vampire groupies were called, so I'd thought that an old but still good pair of Levis and a dark blue sleeveless blouse that tied just above my tummy-button would be fine. I'm not going to deny that I knew the outfit showed my figure to good advantage, I wanted to get offered the job after all, but I didn't want to look cheap or easy.

Now I was here I felt ridiculous – under and over-dressed at the same time. I was a hick from a backwater town and that's just what I looked like.

Swallowing hard, I got out of the car and walked as confidently as I could towards the back of the queue. I kept my mental shields up, knowing that I wouldn't want to hear what people would be thinking about me.

At eight o'clock exactly the door opened with a flourish and out stepped what had to be the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen. I like to think that I'm pretty much immune to a handsome face and a sexy figure, but I swear I actually went weak at the knees at the sight of him. He towered over most of the people in the crowd, and his long blond hair seemed to glow as it hung around his shoulders. He wore a sleeveless black t-shirt that hugged the well-defined muscles of his chest, and a pair of black jeans that most definitely did not come from Walmart.

Out of his shadow stepped a smaller, darker man. Despite the cool of the evening, he was naked from the waist up, presumably to show off his torso, which was covered with an intricate pattern of the most delicate tattoos. His black hair was cropped short, and the dark glasses and combat pants which he wore gave him a sinister appearance. He moved silently along the line, handing out number cards as he went. Mine was 93.

The tall blond followed a few paces behind. He was accompanied by a blonde female vampire, dressed in tight black leather, whose bright red spike heels brought her almost up to his height. She was carrying a notebook and pen. Watching carefully, I could see that as he passed each person in the queue he made some comment and his companion made a note.

It didn't appear that anyone else in the queue had noticed this, but that hardly came as a surprise. The wave of lustful thoughts was so overwhelming that it was impossible to shut them out.

Most of the women were wondering what they had to do to get him to look at them; of course many of them wanted him to do a lot more than look. The graphic images I picked up from a woman a few places in front of me suggested that she'd succeeded in that aim at least once. She was a very strong broadcaster.

The first few people in the queue tried to get his attention by batting their eyelashes or pouting their lips. When that didn't work, they resorted to more desperate measures.

One girl pulled down her top to reveal her breasts. That attracted a brief second glance, so naturally other women copied the action. Another girl lifted her short skirt to reveal that she wasn't wearing any panties, and yes, she was auburn all over. The female vampire seemed to find that most amusing, as she arched an elegant eyebrow.

I pulled myself back into the shadows, not wanting to catch his eye. I felt almost sick with apprehension and discomfort. Perhaps they wouldn't notice me and I could sneak off and forget the whole crazy idea. Instead, as they approached me the male vampire slowed down. He didn't look at me, but I swear he sniffed the air delicately. I wasn't wearing any perfume so lord knows what he could smell. He turned and spoke to his female companion, his voice so low that I couldn't hear it. I let my shields down, rude I know, but the situation was making me nervous. To my surprise I couldn't hear a thing, just two empty spaces where their brains should be. The woman gave me a knowing wink and they moved on.

It took fifteen minutes for them to check out the whole queue and make notes. When they'd finished, the Asian vampire read out a list of numbers. 93 was on the list.

The successful candidates could hardly contain their excitement, giggling and shrieking. The unsuccessful ones stalked off into the night, and I'm sorry to say that they were thinking very unkind thoughts.

I tried my hardest to ignore both groups, as we were shown into the bar, where the tables and chairs had been arranged into a few semi-circular rows. The tall blond and his Asian companion melted into the shadows, and the woman stood on a raised platform at the front to address us. As people settled into their seats I got a good look at her. She was without a doubt the most exotic creature I had ever seen. She was wearing a black leather mini-dress that fitted her like a second skin; even from where I was sitting I could tell that the leather was expensive. Her blond hair was styled into an elaborately casual up-do. She wore bright red thigh-high boots with clear plastic platform soles and spike heels which must have been at least eight inches high. Her lips and nails were a perfect match for the colour of the boots. Despite the constraints of her outfit, she moved with effortless grace as she stalked the dais.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," she began, as formally as if she were addressing a church meeting, "my name is Pamela Ravenscroft, co-owner of Fangtasia."

A few people murmured 'good evening' in response – I guess they were the ones who went to good schools. The vampire ignored them as she continued her introduction.

"Could I have a show of hands if any of you have been blood donors before?" she asked. I struggled to place her accent; it had a southern twang, but underneath I thought I could detect something older and distinctly foreign.

Quite a few hands went up, and she nodded in approval. "For this event we're looking for people who can offer a little extra; our guests will expect to be amused and entertained, as well as being fed. Does anyone have experience in the hospitality industry?"

I raised my hand nervously; waitressing must count as hospitality after all. I was sitting near the back and the room wasn't that well lit, but even so, her eyes seemed to find mine from amongst all the others in the crowd. The bored expression which she had maintained steadfastly was briefly replaced by a flicker of pleasure, which made me feel even more nervous.

"Good," she drawled, "very good. Now we're going to have some try-outs, just to check that you know what to expect. You are free to leave at any time if you feel uncomfortable. I'll be at the door, and everyone will receive something for their trouble in showing up tonight."

People began whispering to each other. "Have you done this before?" the girl sitting on my left asked. She patted my hand when I admitted that I hadn't. "Don't worry; you won't need to go all the way if you don't want to." Her words did nothing at all to make me feel better.

I had slowly become aware that there were numerous vampires in the room. They were sitting in the high-backed booths or standing in the shadows. Curious about their intentions I tried to listen into their thoughts, but there was nothing, only voids where their brains should be. It was weird, but quite comforting. Ever since I was a tiny girl I had been able to hear what people were thinking. It had terrified my parents, once they realised what was going on. Most people just thought I was crazy when I'd blurt out something I couldn't possibly know.

My attention must have wandered as I realised the female vampire had finished speaking. The vampires began to emerge from the shadows and circle the group of humans in the middle of the room. I didn't need to be able to read their thoughts to know that they were sizing us up. No words passed between them; instead they relied on glances and gestures which no human could interpret.

Some of the volunteers couldn't handle it. One girl screamed and ran out of the room. Most of the audience seemed to lap it up though. I could see that the girl with no panties was crossing and uncrossing her legs like a low-rent Sharon Stone. The female vampire smiled appreciatively, and beckoned her over to one of the bar-stools.

I decided to leave; this was definitely a mistake. I was attracting a lot of attention, and I didn't think it was just my out of place dress sense. I'd read that vampire had highly enhanced senses, and realised with horror that they could probably tell that there was one thing that made me very different from everyone else in the room: I'm pretty sure I was the only virgin.

Unless you've experienced it, it's impossible to convey in words how silently a vampire can move and how quickly. I didn't even realise that the tall blond vampire was at my side until I felt the touch of his cool fingers on my arm. It wasn't just the unexpected chill that made me shiver as he leant down and spoke very quietly, his lips almost brushing my ear.

"Miss Stackhouse, will you accompany me into my office?"

I was so overwhelmed with a combination of terror and anticipation that it didn't occur to me to wonder how he knew my name.