Dr. Robert first came to me in the 80's, through the telly. He was singing, and I knew he was more than human. I forgot him for a while, until I ran away to San Francisco. I was chasing a little boy, or maybe I was a little boy. Dr. Robert slipped up next to me, sank his fangs into my throat, and wouldn't let go. Delicious.

Robert was born in 1523, in London, during the reign of King Henry VIII. Anne Boleyn was special to him, but he rarely speaks of her, and never coherently. Some think he is a madman, but sometimes madness is a disguise for a deeper genius. In any event, he is a supreme manipulator and always gets what he wants.

He is the ultimate parasite.

Robert’s childhood was brief and brutal. His father was an unnamed Lord, his mother a scullery wench who died when he was five. At that time he was old enough to take her place in the kitchens at Whitehall Palace. By the time he was ten, he was pretty enough to start catching the jaded eyes of the court. He was used often, first against his will. Later he taught himself to enjoy pain. He found his way through the darkest bars of London’s hidden perversities. There he met Lady Ramona...though she had been watching him for years.

He was twenty-three years old, starved, broken, mad and empty when she gave him the gift of eternal life in 1546. He had never killed before, but it came easily to him. It was a release. It was the first true pleasure he had ever known.

Robert used his newfound powers of darkness to rise among the nobility that had tried to grind him beneath its glittering heel. Posing as a young lord, he became the slickest, shiniest, and most glittering form of death ever to permeate the royal court. He became known as Viscount Robert, and never went without a title again. In this day and age, that title is Doctor, and he will not answer to anything else.

I don’t dare call him anything but Dr. Robert.

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, Dr. Robert attached himself to another vampire nobleman known at that time as the Duke of Dorchester. His name is Nathan Roulan. He deserves his own website, and maybe eventually I’ll make one for him. However, he is not as demanding as the Good Doctor. You’ll read about him if you go through the tales on this site, however, so its best that his name is familiar to you. Nathan is powerful, and dangerous. Be very wary of him. The rules he lives by are completely his own.

Dr. Robert has a terrible habit of emulating those he admires, but he is a terrible mimic. He is also entirely without conscience. He is in many ways completely selfish, but this is a mechanism of self-defense. Nathan and I debated once whether Dr. Robert has ever loved anyone, and if he did love, how it would change him. Maybe you will find hints of that here...

My affair with him in San Francisco in 1996 was mostly one of friendship, despite the fact that he is well-known for sleeping with any person of any age or sex. If you’re easily offended by perversions of any sort, please don’t read his tales. He amused me, with his insolence, his cannibalism, his betrayals.

We parted company when I moved to New Orleans in 1998, but Dr. Robert never forgot about me. One night in the summer of 2000 he came back for me, violent and angry. He took me as his prisoner and dragged me off to Las Vegas. There I lived as his slave in the casino owned by Nathan Roulan until an angel came and saved me from the pair of them.

I never thought that Dr. Robert would miss me, even though I thought of him very often. Sometimes I knew he was outside my window, but he never came inside -- until just a few nights ago. He asked me for this website, and then he began to come into my dreams. In my dream he was singing, onstage just as he had been the first time I had seen him, only it was live and not on the telly. He does think he is a big rock star, and he has a wonderful singing voice, but not half the recognition he craves. In the dream he waited for me in a hotel room, in a brass bed, and I went to him, and lay with him again.

So here I am, and I’m putting out his blasphemies for anyone to read. It may not make any sense to outsiders, but I don’t really care. I’m doing this for him, not for you. If you need a warning, consider this one. Expect vampirism, cannibalism, grotesqueries, inappropriate sex, and glorified violence. If you feel the need to complain anyway, feel free to send an e-mail.

I have to go. Dr. Robert is waiting for me.

Leave a wildflower on my grave.

Tell me why is it I'm diggin' your scene
I know I'll die, baby...