Chapter 9

We were both dressed in our hotel robes when the server arrived with our breakfast. We were relaxed, enjoying the afterglow of a quick feeding, satisfying sex, and a hot shower. I said to Azelia, “Watch this,” when I answered the knock at the door.

A plump old woman greeted me and pushed a cart into the room. She was certainly not the kind I would ever choose to feed from, but I wanted to show something to Azelia.

As the server set out our meal, I moved so I could see her face. I willed her to look in my eyes, which she did several times. Each time, her lined cheeks flushed, and on the third glance I smelled her. This was probably the first time she had been wet in years, poor thing.

I heard quiet rumblings of the Hunger from Azelia. Stealing a look at her, I could see her nipples beneath her terry-cloth robe. Her lips parted, and a soft moan escaped them.

The old woman must have heard her. She looked Azelia’s way and almost dropped the teapot. With a shiver and an embarrassed look, she hurriedly finished serving our feast. After a quick, “Thank you and good day, sir and madam,” she fled.

As soon as the door closed, Azelia started to laugh. “What did you do to her, John?”

“Just a bit of the charm of the clan of Us, my dear. You have it. The poor old biddy didn’t get really wet until she made eye contact with you.”

“That was the coolest thing! She was so turned on! Do you think she understood what was happening to her?” Azelia asked.

“She certainly knew she was aroused. One look at your chest told her you were aroused, and that only made her hotter. Don’t worry, darling. She won’t say anything. She’ll probably just walk around all day with a guilty look on her face. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

As we feasted, Azelia asked me more about the clan of Us.

“We do what we can to adapt to our surroundings. Some of Us are entertainers, scientists, explorers, or artists, although most of Us keep a low profile. Many are comfortable enough financially that we don’t work regular jobs.

“What do you do? Do you work?” she asked.

“I inherited a sizable holding of land and money from my parents. Good investing has allowed me to live well, using my talents as a lute player and singer as my visible means of support,” I answered.

“Do you still play the lute?”

“Hardly anyone still plays the lute, my dear. But I’ve always been good with stringed instruments. I’ve played the violin in orchestras during the Renaissance, the string bass in blues bands in New Orleans during America’s Great Depression, and electric guitar during studio sessions with some of the greats of rock and roll.”

“Doesn’t the fact that you don’t age create a problem? Don’t people notice?” Azelia asked.

“They do, sometimes, if you stay in one place too long. The lives of many of Us tend to be somewhat nomadic. That’s one disadvantage we have. You, for example, could go back to work at Copper Face Jack’s and blend right in, but if you stay there too long, people may wonder why you don’t seem to get any older.”