Helene is gone. I wait a little longer and I climb out of the cage. To come down the stairs is more difficult than to climb up. But I succeed

The keys are there, on the living room table. I remove the cuffs. Strength is coming back slowly.

- Agnes, it's time to think about your meal.

Not now. I've to wait for the evening. It will be difficult. A blood bag, in the freezer, momentarily calms my hunger. The day passes and I go around and around, waiting for the end of the day.

In the bathroom, I dress like a whore.

For a long time, I have understood that, if you want to hunt men, I have to catch them where their neurones are gathered. I'm speaking about.... Every body understood. Even my male readers! " a neurone is bored inside the head. Another neurone comes, surprised. What are you doing here. Come down, we're all down bellow. It'sa great party." Is the joke trashy ? Yes sure. But as the blonde jokes. During roman time, they already exist: the female slaves were often blonde barbarians. They were coarse, uncultivated... Yes sure, from Germanie! Since then, it's right, I met some Germans a bit less silly. But at that time, for us, Romans, Masters of the Univers, other peoples were just slaves fodder.

But I stop now my digressions. Would you excuse the drivels of an old lady, two milleniums old... Where am I ? Yes.

Now I'm properly dressed.

When I get a pressing urge, I make do with lorry drivers. As people say now, itsn't very classy. But they are lively and vigorous. My technique never doesn't vary.

Imagine a pretty woman, short- dressed, broken down on the road side, bent over her car with the opened hood.

Well, can you see the scenery ? You are driving your lorry and you see... that.

Cars are passing. Lorries are passing... At last a truck stops.

Wouldn't you do as this poor lorry driver ? Wouldn't you stop, gentlemen, to help a woman in distress?

The following moments are pure routine for me. The driver pins me against my car, slips his hands under my clothes, tears them off:

- We'll see your car after. Do your whore job first. Come.

In front of that sort of argument, what can I say ?

So I obey.

No ! What are you thinking about. I'm not going to do what you're thinking. Not now.

First rule for a modern vampire: : don't leave trace. I'm not going to stick him here. I'm going to just take a snack...

and I'll finish my meal at home. After hogtying my meal, I take him back to the road (yes I'm very strong). I let a cars stream pass...

Of course nothing is wearable. The bastard has torn my clothes up. But I find a tee-shirt inside the truck cabin. A bit wide but in time of hardship you have to make the best of things.

Another truck... Will it stop ? No. It doen't matter. Tonight no extra.

Coming back home, I set the table...

And I eat. But I play a little before.