A carafe of now cold coffee sits idly on the marble topped table next to a tray laden with freshly baked scones. An assortment of jams, butter and the...traditional clotted cream look equally bored. It has, until now, gone unnoticed. My stomach rumbles of its own accord. Hunger for sustainable energy has replaced my late night hunger of another variety. I shift slightly, wallowing deeper into the luxurious bed linens. It’s the type of bed, with its bright-white ultra high thread count sheets,. I was drunk and Skippy was pretty far gone as he asked the waitress if she was interested in having a few and he was turned down. I made Skippy pay for the shots and told the manager he could make it up to us later. I wrote our address on a napkin as Skippy was paying the tab and we taxied home. We no sooner got home and I changed into lingerie there was a knock on the door. Skippy was like what the fuck they can wait. I said no you can wait go get the door. He opens it and it was the manager. . the real McCoy. Sickle or no sickle, I wasn’t hype. As a vampire, I was Death on steroids. I was Nosferatu, the Undead. Not exactly Dracula, but as close as this world would come to it. And I would let the fucking bodies hit the floor.“I want the Colt, Crowley. So, cut the crap and give it to me, or else...,” I dangled the threat.“And what’s the carrot? I gather that your ‘stick’ is to drain every person alive and rob both Heaven and Hell of all new livestock. Or everyone that you can. And I. I also started to shake ma legs and keep dancing and I felt someone groping me from behind but I ignored. Soon I met the driver guy on floor he said I am not a driver,I smiled and said I am aware as you are well dressed.He replied that ma boss was his jijaji and he asked me to pick you. He asked me for couple dance and I could feel his strong arms and body posture he placed his hand on ma lower back and we began to dance. We were dancing and he asked me if I was married? By this I was high I.
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