Richard was a riddle with no answer, and I was tired of playing a game I couldn't win.

It wasn't just my beast's hunger, but Jean-Claude's blood thirst and Richard's craving for flesh. It was all that and the ardeur running through all of it, so that one hunger fed into the next in an endless chain, a snake eating it's own tail, an Ouroboros of desires.

Richard has informed me he is shopping for his white picket fence. I'm happy behind my black wrought iron fence. The one with the pointy spikes on top. White never really was my color.

Anita can speak for herself," Richard said.
Jean-Claude's attention flicked back to me. "That is certainly true. But I came to see how the two of you enjoyed the play."
"And pigs fly," I said.
"You don't believe me?"
"Not hardly," I said.

He balled his hand into a fist. "You are such a bitch." "Woof, woof," I said.

I'm not sure there are enough white roses in the world to make me forget Richard." I held up my hand before she could interrupt. "But I'm not sure there are enough cozy afternoons in all eternity to make me forget Jean-Claude.