Quietly, we ate dinner together: rare steaks with bloody chicken livers, and duck hearts bathed in a greasy sauce. Such good food. And good company. I didn’t drink Toby’s blood anymore because he regularly smoked m*******a and consumed alcohol, tainted. Instead, he drove to Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Buffalo, and Philadelphia to feed me. Regularly, he abducted young men for me to feast on their blood, draining them of their red juice in his dark and dank basement. Almost every day, I had stopped by his residence for a fix of jock, policeman, librarian, or architect. Clean men from middle- to upper-class families. Proper men who didn’t drink or do drugs. Beautiful men with beautiful blood that kept me alive.
I made love to Toby regularly. He had become solely mine. No longer did he
