She’s right, I do need it but I’m not going to get it from her. “I’m fine for now” I tell her. She lies back down. “Bullshit big brother, we’re not human anymore so the rules don’t apply anymore.” She states. “Trust me, they still apply.” I tell her as we pull into the parking lot of this out of the way motel. I cut off the engine and turn around to face my sister. “Look, I love you and that’s why you’ll never get your fill from me. There are others out there for us. You just need to hold on a little longer, I promise you.” I get out of the car and walk to the front desk. There’s a man behind the desk and a woman on my side of it. Their conversation was interrupted by me when I walked through the door. The man knows what I am but he hesitates to react because of the girl. The girl can’t tell. She’s too horny to think straight but she knows that she needs to leave. I can tell that she’s like my sister only she was born that way.As soon as the door shuts the man pulls out a gun. “Who. He'd apologize for probing so, then tell her how utterly captivated hewas. It was disarming and powerful to her. He made her feel sowonderfully sensual, erotic. She'd answer his questions with elaborate details. It shaped hisunderstanding of her. But her answers and recollections shaped her too,forming an intricate mesh of experiences that had made her the woman shewas now. It provided a context that helped her better understand whoshe was.He asked her when she started smoking. She told him she began at 15,just as she'd told others. But he probed further."Did you think it was cool or something?" he asked."No," she said. She was thoughtful for a moment. "I guess it was justdifferent for me."That part was true. For some unknown reason, she'd begun smoking duringthat first transition period. Sometime, a month or so later, she'd feltthat first pang of addiction. The truth be told, the unspeakable truth,was that that vague craving for smoke created a sort of tangibleconnection.
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