Blood is a natural substance; every human on the Earth has blood flowing in their veins. And sometimes one of these humans will cut themselves while working or playing and will experimentally taste this red wine of humanity only to find that, unlike they expected, the taste is rather pleasing. Just as blood is natural, so is the desire aroused by the scent of a woman's genitals. If one can imagine: blood and the scent of a woman together.

Peter was thinking these very thoughts as he walked from his office to his home, nearly two miles away, a trip he takes daily without complaint. It gives him time to think. Like today, his thoughts about blood and the scent of a woman. For as long as Peter can remember, he has been fascinated with the workings of female gentalia. Add to that an almost gothic obsession with the colour red and the taste of blood. Please don't wrongly mistake Peter: he is very sane, very respectful of women. Many would call him a male feminist. He is polite in conversation, never without a witty saying, and verbose in action; he doesn't treat his female counterparts like slaves, nor does he allow himself to be treated likewise. He believes in equality; and for this men envy him, and women want him.

Peter's father was killed in a car accident when Peter was very young; Peter was left with his mother and his two sisters. Menstrual cycles were no secret to him, but there still seemed a mystery, something left to be experienced.

Peter passed the old church and neared the traffic signal that served as a divider between the urban area of the city and his older, but well kept neighbourhood of middle-aged middle-class families who were well paid, but quickly drained by endless lists of bills and payments. His family, not unlike the rest of the neighbourhood, were quickly dwindling to recollect happier times.

Peter was always concerned about his family's well being. His wife, Gloria, a beautiful Mexican woman he had met in his one semester of college, was well read and educated and never failed to entertain his intellect, regardless of tongue. He had one lovely daughter, Laura, the pride of his very existance. With creamy, Mexican skin, and lovely dark brown hair, she must have been the very object of desire for all of the male adolescent occupants on the surrounding streets.

As Peter entered his house, he could smell his wife's lovely cooking awaiting his tongue's approval. He took off his jacket and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He noticed that Laura had a friend over to stay the night: her best friend Jamie. He closed the bathroom door and proceded to empty his bladder. He noticed small red stains on the inside of the toilet bowl. Assuming it was either Gloria's or Laura's, he did not think much about it. He ate a rather uneventful meal and noticed that Jamie was using the bathroom more than she normally did when she was over. He began pretending to use it after she did, only to notice that the blood stains had become larger and more numerous. Jamie was having her period, a regular occurance in the life of a sixteen year old girl. Peter looked through the trash can and found a used pad. He first smelled it, and then began licking the blood and secretions off of it.