I took a breath and realized that they were listening and I was loving it. I hit them with some more BIC material. Classic lines like
"They don't care if you live or die. They just want you to keep paying."
"The shit job of today is the high paying job of tomorrow if the bankers stay in power."
"If you think your pet politician loves you then you probably think a hand job is good sex."
That one got a laugh. I worked them and when I was done I mentioned that we were organizing. We could provide a safe place to live and food to eat for the right people. As soon as I said that someone yelled out "What's the right people?"
"You want to find out? Be here tomorrow. All I want to hear is why you are interested and what you think you can contribute." Then I waved goodbye and said I had other places to go to. I didn't want to stick around and get into endless discussions about politics and the specifics of what we had to offer.
I moved on feeling good. Real good. I could have probably brought the whole bunch home with me but we were after quality and not quantity. I was walking along thinking of what I needed to look for an ask them about tomorrow. I was considering bringing Fire with me. She would like being consulted and maybe it would bridge some of the distance that had sprung up between us. Hell, her bruises had faded. I was the one who was dealing with the shit that had set off inside me and I was doing a pretty damn good job of it. I had not even called Slut to see if she would like to meet somewhere quiet. Something I was still itching to do.
I came out of my thoughts feeling irritated with Fire. Much to my surprise I had ended up two blocks from the shelter. That was weird as I hadn't consciously planned on coming here. I looked around. I could follow the bike trail into DC or I could turn around and head back to the house. I could also cut back in the woods and circle around and have a decent view of the shelter. I did have my binoculars. Did I really want to go there? Sure I did. Just the idea of looking was exciting. I didn't plan on doing anything. Really.
I slipped through the woods like a ghost. Rarely did I move so well in the woods. I felt like I was flying over down logs and flowing around the clumps of bushes. I was excited. Very excited. I remembered this feeling very well. The feeling of the hunt. The knowing that if all went right I would be feeding soon. Feeding on the power of watching. The power of making. Making another person mine. Against their well. Mine. If god was all powerful then the sex must be mind blowing. The taking was almost as much fun as what came next.
Channelling John Ringo?
ReplyDelete