"Yes," she said. "That's right. A succubus. And all I want is just one drop of your blood."
"And you'll show up in my bedroom," said Paul.
"Yes," said Veronella. "Tonight. I'll be there when you get home."
"But you don't even know where I live," said Paul. "And, besides, I have a state-of-the-art security system."
"Trust me," she said.
Well, Paul was a bit queasy about the blood products angle, but he was also a bit drunk. So she ended up getting what she wanted.
But, by the time Paul got home, his bubble of belief had popped. The security system told him, for a fact, that nobody had gotten inside.
"Crazy woman," said Paul to himself, amazed at his own drunken stupidity, and hoping he hadn't somehow contaminated himself while drawing a drop of blood.
He went inside and heard a strange noise from the bedroom. A heavy noise.
"Veronella?" said Paul.
"Yes," said a deep voice from the bedroom.
Paul pushed open the door, and there on his bed was a walrus, tusked, wrinkled, smelling of the sea. Obviously male.
"What the hell!" said Paul. "What have you done with Veronella?"
"What's your problem?" said the walrus. "Haven't you ever heard of outsourcing before?"